Waiging War
by ScorplinginTraining
Summary: In the midst of war, sometimes learning to love and belong is the hardest battle of all. An AU love story as if Scorpion was formed during WWII. Mostly Waige with a side of Quintis.
1. Chapter 1

WAIGING WAR

 **AN: I'm just trying this one out to see if you guys like it. It's for sure AU. I'm exploring the idea of Scorpion forming near the end of World War II. Give it a try and tell me what you think. Your reviews and follows will tell me if you want me to continue or not. I'm spending a lot more time researching and editing this story, so the updates may be slower than normal for me.**

 **Disclaimer: The world was a lot less PC back in the 40s. So if there are some terms or attitudes you find a little offensive, forgive me. I'm trying to stick with the truth of the era.**

There is no rule that states geniuses can't occasionally do stupid things. A prime example was 24 year old Walter O'Brien, epitome of geniuses, who proved to be the incarnation of intermittent idiocy.

It was the summer of 1945, the 'age of men'. Johnny was already marching home in droves from the European theater of war and was being met with much celebration and adoration. With the recent unofficial surrender of Japan, the troops were expected to soon swarm back from Asia as well.

Three years before, as an Irish native and recent émigré with a Visa for Individuals with Extraordinary Abilities, Walter hadn't been required to enlist. His first foray into stupidity as an adult meant he'd uncharacteristically caved to social pressure and enlisted anyway. Granted he was also flat broke and needed a job.

Fortunately, he was snatched up in his first week of boot camp by a tough-as-nails drill instructor, Sergeant Cabe Gallo, who immediately recognized his aptitudes did _not_ lie in becoming torpedo fodder or a walking target for the Nazis.

Sgt Gallo's instincts undoubtedly saved Walter's life. The Irishman was completely hopeless with firearms and pretty much all forms of weaponry as well as hand-to-hand fighting. However it did mean he was holed up for most of the war in a dank and dingy basement bunker in Guam.

Working as a code breaker for the Army SIS was an extremely tedious assignment, so some days he almost wished he was dodging bullets and bombs instead.

It surprised no one, least of all the ultra genius, Walter was pretty universally disliked by his superior officers and his fellow egghead code breakers, the former because he'd never been much good at following orders and the latter because they were Ivy League or West Point graduates and had utmost faith in their degrees and training and the superiority of their own intelligence. They didn't take kindly to frequently being corrected by some 'lousy, arrogant, smart mouth Mick', their exact words, who lacked an American pedigree, army experience or any claim to higher education. But Walter had never been shy about pointing out obvious errors and he wasn't about to start pulling his verbal punches, especially considering the gravity of the mission.

Meaning he ate his meals by himself most days and was alternately treated like a leper or was the object of juvenile pranks in the barracks.

He was only sought out by coworkers when someone needed a particularly hard sequence of code deciphered or when they were throwing him the occasional jibe or direct insult. In other words, this assignment was a nearly perfect replica of his whole high school experience.

It was okay. After all, a person with no feelings can't be hurt. Right?

And there were a few silver linings in the form of a small number of other misfits on base who would speak to him in a friendly manner when their paths crossed.

His first year, he met a brilliant mechanic, ironically named Happy, when touring the motor pool. She was an outcast not only because she had the audacity to be female and a genius at engineering, but she also boldly dared to admit she was half Japanese. Due to people's typical response to these factors, the woman wore a Sherman Tank-sized chip on her shoulder which, in turn, didn't win her many friends either.

The armed forces weighed not only her fluency in the language of the enemy, but her aptitude for fixing and maintaining the machines of war against her perceived 'faults' and chose to station her in the 'butthole of the Pacific', Happy's words, rather than sending her to one of the Japanese internment camps stateside.

Lucky her.

But it really _was_ fortunate for Walter because the two of them could talk brain to brain about improvements and modifications for internal combustion engines and the new jet engines for hours. And often did.

Their conversations were sometimes interrupted by one Dr. Tobias M. Curtis, also an outsider. His medical fellows didn't care for his superior attitude or his bragging about his east coast alma mater even if they couldn't complain about his skills. In addition, he owed most of them a fair amount of cash because he couldn't pass up a late night card or dice game.

Toby had been drafted into the army as a surgeon even though his primary field of study was psychiatry. When he wasn't busy 'patching up sailors and soldiers too young to shave much less fight battles on foreign shores', Toby's words, or gambling, he always seemed to pop up whenever and wherever Happy had a spare second.

Then there was the young teen, Sylvester, stationed in Guam with his father. While the rest of his family was handily shipped back to mainland America after the attack on Pearl Harbor, Colonel Dodd thought his son would benefit from the experience of staying on base while the army officers worked out wartime tactical and troop maneuvers with the naval officers. He was going to 'make a man out of Sly if it killed them both'. Kenneth Dodd's words, of course.

Sylvester spent every minute terrified of everything, from volcanoes, earthquakes and tsunamis to air raids, submarines, insects and typhoid. As a result, he could be found much of the time in the basement with Walter and the other decoders, actually proving to be a lot of help. Much to the disgust of his father, he would do anything to escape to that bunker, including fetching coffee, calculating and computing, and cracking some of the more stubborn patterns and sequences even the most seasoned personnel in the Signal Intelligence Service, including Walter, couldn't break.

And of course there was Sergeant Gallo. He'd radioed in to Walter and his friends more than once during the course of the war when the army needed to come up with eleventh hour solutions to problems no one else could manage to solve. The greater good was served, but it failed to make the little outfit of oddballs any more popular.

It was a rare day when all four friends had the time to have a meal together, but the incidents were becoming a bit more frequent as the war was winding down. One particular morning, the group was able to gather at their usual table in the far corner by the latrines, designated as theirs because no one else wanted to sit so close to the toilets.

Happy inelegantly flopped down on the bench beside Walter and dropped her metal tray on the table next to his, causing both him and her reconstituted egg substitute to jump, scattering part of the bright yellow slop into her canned fruit cocktail.

"How the hell is any human being supposed to survive on this garbage they call food?" She grumbled even as she shoveled it into her mouth with a spoon.

Sylvester crunched on a triangle of burnt toast and chased it with a gulp of watery powdered milk. "I sometimes have dreams about my grandma's boysenberry pie," he swallowed and said wistfully.

Toby slunk up to the table, face partially obscured by his non-regulation fedora. He slithered onto the seat opposite Happy and sat next to Sly, slouching down behind the bulky youth. Sylvester opened his mouth to greet the doctor, but he was immediately shushed. "Keep it down, will ya? If anyone asks, you guys never saw me."

The mechanic's lip curled and she replied churlishly, "You could disappear. Then we wouldn't have to lie."

Toby winked. "Nah. You'd miss me too much." Then he made a kissy face at Happy followed shortly by a gasp of pain because she'd kicked him in the shin.

Walter sighed and listlessly dribbled his lumpy, gray oatmeal in a sticky stream from his spoon back into his bowl. "Who did you insult this time? Or who did you cheat? Or how much do you owe?"

"You wound me," the shrink smirked, briefly laying both hands over his heart. "But since you asked, I might have borrowed a C-note from Smitty for a hot craps game last night. Let's just say Lady Luck took a big, hot crap _on_ my game. Now I'm trying to lay low until my shift at the infirmary starts. If he catches up to me, I might be my own first patient of the day."

Sylvester's eyes went wide as saucers behind the thick lenses of his horn rims. His newly deepened voice cracking, he squeaked, "Smitty? The cook? The guy who can bench press his fully-stocked refrigerator? You mean him? I'm not sure it's safe for us to be seen talking to you." He pushed his glasses up his nose and continued with more confidence since the numbers always calmed him, "Besides, I don't know why you'd want to shoot craps. The odds are kinda, well… crappy. A player can only expect to hit once in every 3.7 rolls."

Toby looked pointedly at Happy. "I gotta do something to combat the relentless boredom. It's not like there's much else to do around here. I mean, if someone would agree to go out with me, I might just stay outta trouble once in a while."

"Doubtful," Walter said skeptically. "What are you going to do after your shift is over? The odds of him finding you in the mess hall during the dinner hour are exponentially better than the odds of winning at stupid dice games."

"See, that's what I've come to talk to you guys about. There's a show tonight down at the USO. They're letting the locals entertain us. I heard this one dame on the list has a decent set of pipes. From what I understand, she's pretty easy on the eyes too. She might be worth hearing, and it'll get me out of Smitty's line of fire until I can figure out an acceptable hundred dollar trade that doesn't involve my untimely demise."

Looking underwhelmed, Happy stated, "You really know how to talk it up, Doc. I can't think why I'm definitely going to say no."

"Aw, c'mon. You'd be saving a life. Mine." He pleaded, then added for an extra incentive, "I've heard there'll be cookies…"

The mechanic shook her head and Toby sagged slightly as she said, "Sorry. No can do. I gotta wash and set my hair." When the whole group looked at her in disbelief, she clarified, "Which loosely translates to I have a catalytic converter to… convert. I'm on duty."

Looking eagerly back and forth between the others, Toby asked, "How 'bout you guys? Huh? Are you up for a boys' night out on the town? Any takers?"

Sylvester spoke up, the disgruntlement clear in his voice, "I'd never be able to sneak away for that long. My dad is insisting I check in with him every hour so I'll stop hiding out in the bunker. He's been watching me like a hawk lately."

"Are you in, 197? Can I count on you to help a fella out here or not?" The shrink was looking almost desperate.

Making this his second foray into the world of stupid, Walter shrugged and replied, "Okay. I guess it beats hanging around the barracks. I found an open can of sardines hidden under my mattress last night. My whole bunk still stinks like fish."

"Sounds like someone in your unit is begging for a knuckle sandwich, Walt. Say the word and I'd be glad to give 'em a little taste," Happy all but growled, her hands fisting around her utensils.

"Oh, that would make it all better," Toby unwisely sneered, "Having a girl fight his battles for him? Might as well paint a target on his butt."

Happy shoved the table as hard as she could, sending dishes flying and effectively pinning the smart aleck doctor and a petrified Sly against the wall. Leaning against it with all her weight, eyes boring into Toby's, she gritted out between clenched teeth. "I don't need a target to kick _your_ ass then wipe the floor with it. Keep that in mind before you open your stupid mouth again." With that, she pushed away and stalked off, quivering with indignation.

Toby watched longingly as Happy strutted away. "I think I'm in love," he breathed.

Sylvester looked at him like he was certifiably insane. "I think you're an idiot. She scares me."

Walter was swiping irritably at the spilled oatmeal he was suddenly wearing in his lap. "Everything scares you. I've got to go change clothes then report for duty. Toby, where and when do you want to meet later?"

They ironed out the details and went their respective ways.

OXOXOXOXOXO

The swampy evening heat barely dissipated with the setting of the sun. Even with the doors open and the ceiling fans rotating, sitting inside the USO was a lot like enduring an evening in an Indian sweat lodge. The bodies were pressed in tight, the GIs sitting shoulder to shoulder heckling some of the local acts rudely.

Walter sat near the back with Toby, hating every moment and wishing he'd stayed on base reading quietly on his fishy-smelling bunk. His uniform was wilted, his sweat soaked back was sticking to the folding chair and his temper was fraying.

But then _she_ walked out on stage.

As the spotlight grabbed her and she stepped up to the microphone, tugging nervously at her skirt and softly clearing her throat, an instant hush fell over the rowdy audience. One lone wolf whistle pierced the quiet just before she began to sing.

"Gonna take a sentimental journey

Gonna set my heart at ease

Gonna make a sentimental journey

To renew old memories..."

As the woman's lovely voice crooned her song, Walter found himself completely enthralled. He forgot the heat and the mosquitos and everyone else in the room. He couldn't wrench his eyes away from the stunning singer on the stage.

That was the exact moment the fourth smartest person in the world did the stupidest and most illogical thing of all. He fell in love.


	2. Chapter 2

WAIGING WAR CHAPTER 2

There's no law against a normal, ordinary person doing something extraordinarily genius once in a lifetime. Twenty-three year old Paige Dineen felt she was long overdue for her one great moment of brilliance.

She'd had so many dreams as a girl in that boring, little one horse town which was a tiny stitch on the very hem of the outskirts of Phoenix. Her singing was her ticket out. After high school, she'd planned to move to Vegas and perform in the night clubs. She just _knew_ she would be discovered there. Paige would become more famous than Peggy Lee. She would be the most popular singer on everyone's radio dial. People would dance to _her_ songs. Fall in love to the rhythm. Then their children would fall asleep listening to her voice, a soothing lullaby for them and an immeasurable triumph for her.

In pursuit of those dreams, she did everything in her power to finance them. She worked as a maid at the Carter ranch, she babysat for all her neighbors and she picked up as many shifts as the owner would allow at the old Stardust Café out on the highway, pinching every nickel, dime and penny she made until they screamed for mercy. She'd never been afraid of hard work. If the hours meant she didn't have much in the way of a social life, so be it. And if all the scrimping meant she had nothing fancy to call her own, all that would change once she made her first hit.

Before long, Paige had quite the considerable nest egg recorded in the bank book she hid from her mother inside one of her twice darned stockings in the back of her lingerie drawer. She'd been a few short months away from making her big move. Right on the cusp of everything she'd ever wanted.

Then Drew Baker walked into that diner.

He was a Navy Aviator stationed at Litchfield Park Naval Air Facility. He was _so_ handsome in his pristine uniform. A real dreamboat. And very different from all the hayseed farmer's boys she grew up knowing. He had sophistication and real worldly polish.

It wasn't Paige's smartest move to let herself be drawn in by his flirtatious charm and winning smile, because she quickly discovered all that glitters isn't gold.

But not quickly enough.

The war was only a distant grumble at the time they met and Drew led her to believe they had a future together, always talking of big plans for the two of them. Her dreams of a singing career were tabled faster than she ditched that job at the roadside cafe. They were swiftly replaced with fantasies of white dresses and glittering rings and seeing the world as a Navy pilot's wife. Before she knew what hit her, she fell hard for his pretty lies and let him talk her out of her clothes and into using her little nest egg to follow him to California.

They shared her teeny one room apartment whenever he had leave while he was completing his training, then he received his orders and was shipped out to an aircraft carrier in the Pacific.

At first Paige wrote every day and prayed hard for his safe return. He only answered sporadically, but she treasured every one of his letters figuring he must be out at sea or so busy fighting for his country he didn't have time to write. His answers got farther and farther apart as the little waitress's belly grew rounder and rounder with his child.

Once the letters stopped coming entirely, on a wild impulse, she cashed out what was left of her savings, sold everything she had and bought one way passage on a ship to the remote Pacific island where Drew's last letter was posted. Fighting seasickness, morning sickness and a sick feeling of dread, she endured the journey as best she could by telling herself he would be glad to have her near and he would want to marry her and give their baby the protection of his name.

She arrived only to discover Drew's big plans for the two of them turned out to be so much hot air it could have filled a fifty foot balloon and circumnavigated the globe. Twice.

Because she found out from asking the other sailors, he already had a wife back in Tahoe.

Devastated, pregnant, alone and broke, Paige was rudely awakened to heart-breaking reality in a strange place where she knew no one. She couldn't afford to go home and she had no where to turn for help.

Luckily courage isn't exclusively handed out to soldiers like field rations. Sometimes a young, desperate woman has it in spades. And Paige had to muster every ounce at her disposal to find work in a seedy bar and grill near the army base and rent a squat little house within walking distance. There were times when begging wasn't beneath her. Pride plays no part when you're a mother whose child is in need.

Now her beautiful boy was four years old and Paige loved him fiercely. Enough for both a mother and a father. Sure, people talked behind their hands about her absent husband, but it was war and most assumed he'd been killed in action. She didn't feel the need to correct that assumption.

People also whispered about her 'idiot' child who wouldn't speak or laugh or play with other children. Those comments were harder to ignore, but if she wanted to keep her job and the roof, leaky though it was, over Ralph's head, she had to brave them. For his sake. She could survive _anything_ for Ralph's sake.

Young, naïve Paige was gone for good like a faded photograph in someone else's scrapbook. Experienced, sensible Paige was born from the years of struggle. She wasn't bitter and she would never regret having Ralph, she was just realistic.

So when her neighbor Roxy suggested she sing at the USO, she laughed her straight out the rusted, creaky screen door of her house. Sure, friends, customers and coworkers alike teased her about her constant singing or humming while she worked. But to sing on stage? The thought hadn't crossed her mind in years.

Plus, she would have to leave her son with a babysitter another night of the week. He wasn't comfortable with many people and she already left him for long hours while she was working.

But when her boss started lamenting about the USO needing more acts and offered to give her the evening off with pay, she readily agreed. The thought of actually making money by singing was bittersweet. It wasn't exactly what she had in mind all those long years ago, but she decided there was no shame in hoarding a few remnants of her shattered hopes for herself.

She had unbearable stagefright the first couple of times and nearly talked herself out of going on again, but she was convinced by the pleas from her friends and reassurances she was doing her part to raise morale among the troops. Plus her boss all but insisted. He said it was good advertising for the bar.

On Paige's third attempt, she found her equilibrium in the regard of a gorgeous black-haired man. It was unexplainable. With the spotlight shining in her face, she shouldn't have been able to see him clearly, but something drew her eyes directly to this one GI near the back by the open doors. A warm shiver passed through her when she met his gaze. The way those dark eyes were looking at her… Oh, my. It was like she was his whole world and he was just a moon orbiting around her. She had plenty of men look at her with lust over the years. There were plenty of men doing the same in the audience that night. This was different. He was different. He was looking at her with admiration and something close to adoration.

Practical Paige dismissed the notion once the bright stage lights went dark. She was not about to be fooled by another handsome face disguising a lying, cheating jerk. She couldn't afford to be taken in again.

However, each time she sang at the USO after that, she would scan the audience until she found him. As long as he was there, her songs sounded stronger and truer like he was coaxing them straight from her heart.

Every time she sang to him and for him, it finally felt like that incandescent moment of brilliance she'd been seeking for so long.

OXOXOXOXOXO

"Hello? Anyone home? Hey, _Walt_!" Toby vigorously poked his friend in the bicep.

The two men were standing beside the motor pool waiting on Happy to make an appearance.

As if slowly coming out of a trance, Walter hummed in reply.

"You haven't heard a word I've said for the last two minutes. There's a diagnosis for that, you know. You're _moony_." Toby made an exaggerated pouty face at Walter and fluttered his eyelashes.

He got a look of disgust in return. "I'm not… moony. I don't even know what that means."

"I'll define the term for you then. To be dreamy and unaware of one's surroundings. For example when one is in loooove," the shrink crooned. "You got it bad for that sweet little singer down at the USO. It's not like I blame you. She's quite the looker."

"That's ridiculous. I don't even know her. I just enjoy her voice, that's all. She's talented. And I don't get… _moony_ ," Walter nearly spat the word.

"Yeah. You keep telling yourself that, pal, when I happen to know for a fact you've been to every local concert and yokel wing ding they've had down there for the last two weeks making sure you don't miss her. I heard you even traded two for one shifts with someone so you could go. I think you worked almost thirty-six hours straight last time. Sounds like puppy love if you ask me." The amusement was clear in Toby's expression.

"Well, I don't remember asking you. Do you want my help or not? Happy's still mad, you know." Walter was scowling, willing the man beside him to shut his foolish trap.

The reminder of Happy's anger deflated the doc enough for him to momentarily drop the subject. "I'm aware. That's why I need your help. She won't talk to me unless you're with me. I promised I'd make it worth your while. But you didn't hear me because you were too busy _not_ being moony."

Thankfully Happy chose that moment to make her appearance. Her army green coveralls were grease streaked, she held her chin high, and her stride was all business as she stalked out into the blazing sunshine. Toby studied her intently as if she was perfectly magnificent. Who was the moony one now?

She tossed a hasty hello at Walter then stabbing a hard stare right through the other man, she stopped short and groused, "What the hell is _he_ doing here?"

Walter started to reply, but Toby got there first, " _He_ , meaning me, wants to sincerely apologize for offending you and to bring you a peace offering." The doctor held a set of metric calipers in his extended hand.

Happy began visibly waffling. It was obvious she wanted to stay angry, but she was also mentally drooling over the gift. The petite mechanic snatched the tools from Toby's outstretched palm and looked at him with narrow-eyed suspicion. "Where did you get these? They don't exactly grow on the palm trees around base. You better not have pinched these off one of the other mechanics. I'd be the one blamed for it."

"Nope. I won 'em fair and square off a guy with no poker face who can't hold his liquor. Friends again?" Toby uttered with cautious hopefulness.

Giving the shrink a dubious look, but not relinquishing her prize, Happy asked, "What is it you want in exchange?"

Mock astonishment filled Toby's expression as he answered, "Only your forgiveness and continued friendship and respect…"

Walter snorted and rolled his eyes as Happy interrupted with, "Yeah, I'll bet. Tell me another one. On second thought don't. Just spit it out. I got places to be."

"Well, I do need a teensy-weensy favor too. If you wouldn't mind," All wide-eyed innocence, Toby replied, "And the best part is I'd still owe you one. So think of the tools as a free gift."

Happy jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. "You already owe me like forty…"

"See, I kinda promised Smitty access to a jeep tonight. So he can take his nurse friend to a fancy-schmancy hotel on the other side of the island. He says it'll make up for the money I owe him. If you can't come through for me, I understand. But in that case, I just want you to hear this from me. It's been real nice knowing you."

The doc slung one arm around her shoulders and she shook her head and glared at him pretending to be annoyed, but she said, "Alright. I'll see what I can do." With those words, she whirled out of the half embrace and went back inside.

Walter glanced sidelong at Toby. "You'd better watch yourself with Happy. You get under her skin faster than anyone else and that's saying a lot."

His friend grinned confidently. "That's because she's falling for me."

Walter huffed out a humorless burst of laughter. "Right. You're not just moony, you're completely _loony_."

Toby simply answered, "A man in love knows these things. And speaking of moony…"

Walter groaned as he continued, "I promised I'd help you out too, remember? Her name is Paige Dineen and she works the lunch shift at Stu's place in town. What you do with that information is entirely up to you."

 **AN: I know it's taking a long time for Walter and Paige to meet, but I had to do the set up and background for everyone first. They will meet in the next chapter, I swear.**

 **And just a little PSA: In order for me to feel like it's worth the time and effort to write and edit stories, I look for feedback in the form of reviews. Not to sound whiny or needy, but even though I love to write, it's quite a lot of work if no one is reading or cares about it. I appreciate all the reviews I get and they are often what motivates me to continue. So for the sake of all writers, please leave a kind word or two if you like a story and want to read more.**


	3. Chapter 3

WAIGING WAR CHAPTER 3

 **AN: Thank you for all the kind reviews! I hope you enjoy this next installment as much!**

The owner's legal name wasn't Stu any more than Walter's was Rumpelstiltskin.

It was much more likely the native Chamorron borrowed a moniker he thought sounded American when he opened his enterprise. On the surface the man was good natured and jolly, friendly and open. But the genius knew from observation and exhaustive research, beneath the jovial veneer lurked a shrewd opportunist who hid himself quite cleverly during the Japanese occupation of the island. When the US reclaimed the territory and the army base was again being utilized by the allied forces, 'Stu' renamed himself and declared several abandoned properties as his own. One of the properties was a crumbling cinder block building near the base. He'd turned it into a bar and grill and claimed to serve 'All American Fare'. He knew the menu would pull the homesick soldiers and sailors in and they wouldn't ask too many questions about the source of meat, butter, eggs or other items on the menu which were being rationed nearly everywhere else in the world. The Army happily turned a blind eye to any contraband supplies or smuggling violations while Stu happily stuffed his pockets with All American Dollars.

Walter told himself he'd done all the investigating because it gave him something to do while the war slowly ground to a halt and until the army decided it was time to ship him home. A part of him also recognized he wanted to make sure the guy was a decent employer, but what he couldn't begin to logically explain was exactly why he cared so much. Ever since Toby mentioned where Paige worked, concerns for her working environment were present in way too many of Walter's thoughts, both waking and sleeping.

Slowly swirling the one rapidly melting ice cube in his flat, syrupy soda, Walter watched in fascination from a corner booth while Paige hefted trays loaded with mystery meat burgers and fries, weaving between tables and dodging grabby hands. The dive was full to nearly bursting that day. The atmosphere was steamy and still and the air was heavy with the smell of beer and old grease. Blue-grey cigarette smoke shrouded the bare light bulbs that dangled from a thick cord near the ceiling.

Even though the wisps of hair coming out of her pony tail were damp with sweat and clinging to her neck in little whorls, Paige didn't seem the least bit annoyed by her surroundings, the heat or the hard work. She took the time to give each customer a bright smile and a kind word as she doled out heaping plates of unquestionably bootleg food.

He purposely chose not to sit in her section, because he still couldn't bring himself to admit why he'd come. Of course he acknowledged she was beautiful, but he'd seen attractive women before. His preoccupation with this one made him curious. He had the foolish notion if he could watch her from his far corner vantage he might be able to determine the reason for his infatuation before deciding whether to approach her or not.

Most humans didn't like him. It was odd, but he had a hunch she might be different. Deep down, he _hoped_ she might be different.

Paige was so busy they hadn't even made eye contact yet and he was coming to the end of his midday break. Walter glanced at his watch and pushed the plate containing the remnants of his fish sandwich toward the middle of the table. He would have to head back soon.

Up to that point, he'd either been focused solely on his mediocre meal or the lovely server performing her duties. But something made him quickly glance around before he took his leave. That's when he saw a young boy seated alone at a table adjacent to his. He looked to be only four or maybe five years old. It struck the genius as unusual, because instead of playing with toys or whining for attention, the boy sat quietly arranging and rearranging parts of what looked like an old radio.

Intrigued, Walter threw enough money on his table to cover lunch and a tip then got up and wandered over so he could watch the child more closely. What seemed to be a random positioning of parts before, on closer inspection, turned out to be more like mapping places within the device and the assessment of damage and required repairs.

"It looks like you need a new ballast tube," Walter murmured more to himself than the boy.

"Yeah," Without looking up, the youngster answered in a soft, solemn tone. Then he sighed and said dejectedly, "I don't know if I can find one. I was trying to figure out if I could repurpose a different component. I used part of an old coat hanger to replace the antenna."

Walter slid into another seat at the table and scooted the chair closer to the boy. "Yes, I can see that."

The two of them worked mostly silently, sizing each other up. Occasionally the boy would ask questions about what may or may not work. They were so absorbed in the intricacies of the radio task they didn't notice anyone else around them for a while.

They were both startled when a slightly disapproving voice asked, "Can I help you?"

Still deep in thought, Walter lifted his eyes slowly toward the source of the voice. A bolt of awareness sizzled through him, bright and hot as lightning, the second his gaze met Paige's frowning, concerned one.

A small gasp escaped from her parted lips.

Breathless and befuddled, it was a few seconds before he could gather his scattered wits or draw in enough air to answer. "Uh, no. B-but you should help him."

With that, he rose to his feet and made a hasty retreat.

OXOXOXOXOXO

Paige stood frozen in place for a blink or two before following him. "Stay here, Ralph. I'll be right back," she tossed at her son as she took off in pursuit.

It was _him_. Him! The man from the audience. He was no longer an intangible face in a vast sea of others. He was solid and as real as her tired shoulders and aching feet.

Refusing to think too much about why she was chasing after him, Paige burst from the café into the blinding midday sunshine. Shading her eyes, she looked almost frantically right to left. She spied him moving at a determined clip back toward the base and she took off in that direction.

Coming up behind the man, Paige wrapped her fingers around the knife edge pleat on the sleeve of his uniform shirt and gave it a couple of sharp tugs. He stopped short. She would have run into the back of him if he hadn't turned around to face her. As it was, she had to steady herself by grabbing his forearm.

She noted it felt sturdy beneath her hand before he flinched and extricated his arm from her grasp.

Great. Now that she'd manhandled him, she couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Ralph doesn't talk to anyone but me," Paige blurted more sharply than she intended.

"He recognizes one of his own," he shrugged and answered casually, as if she hadn't just been remarkably rude.

His words puzzled her enough to make her momentarily forget the awkwardness. "What do you mean by that?"

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your son is a genius."

Paige's eyes flooded with tears as the stranger turned and walked away, leaving her to stare after him in open-mouthed astonishment, paralyzed and unable to utter a single one of her thousands of questions.

She hadn't even asked his name.

OXOXOXOXO

"Shut up and deal the cards already." An irritable Walter glowered at Toby, a small sneer curling his upper lip.

"Forgive me interrupting your snit with my witty banter. And this uncharacteristic snit is brought to us by...?" The shrink raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

When no answer was forthcoming, Toby deftly shuffled the cards, making arches and other impressive configurations between his hands. When it didn't have the desired effect of forcing the other player to comment, he asked, "So, Walter. I happened to notice, your girl is headlining at the USO tonight. And yet you're here playing poker, which, let me remind you, you hate. Care to explain?"

Sylvester wandered into the makeshift office and dropped into the only unoccupied seat. "You can deal me in if you want."

The doctor was on duty that night, but the few patients still in the hospital were stable and resting.

Eyes focused on Walter's face, Toby answered the teen. "Not a chance. Me and Walt count cards, but you're absolutely lethal in that department."

Crossing his arms, Sly pouted. "You're only playing for cotton swabs anyway."

Tossing cards one at a time into piles in front of himself and Walter, Toby ignored Sly and continued interrogating the other man. "So? Why aren't you at the USO drooling over your singing sweetie tonight?"

"She's not _my_ anything. She's married," the genius all but snarled. He snatched his cards off the desk, arranging them into a fan in one fist.

"You're bending the cards, Romeo. And, no. My source assured me she's footloose and fancy free." Feigning nonchalance, Toby peered over his own cards gauging Walter's very interesting reaction.

"Obviously your intel was incorrect. She has a kid," he sighed, sounding defeated.

Toby discarded two cards and picked up two more off the deck.

"Doesn't necessarily mean she's married, does it? Was she wearing a ring?" Sylvester asked.

Walter laid three cards face down and slid them across the desk, frowning in thought. "No. Not that I noticed. But she has a son." His mouth kicked up on one side. "Incredible kid. He's a genius like us. Quiet. Introverted. Only about four years old and sharp as a tack. I can tell she tries, but she has no idea what to do with him."

The doctor dealt him three more cards. "The way I see it, the real question has nothing to do with her marital status. The real question here is whether or not you're gonna let that kid flounder like we did."

Walter dropped his cards on the desk and squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing at his temples in agitation. When he looked up, his resolute gaze darted between his two friends.

"I think you two are going to help me steal a ballast tube."


	4. Chapter 4

Waiging War Chapter 4

 **AN: Wow! Thank you for taking a chance on this story. Your reviews have been wonderful and encouraging. Much appreciated.**

"Stop breathing down my neck, idiot! Or I'm gonna stick this screwdriver up your nose." Happy hissed at Toby, waving her chosen weapon in his face.

A thin slice of silvery moonlight was the only illumination in the tiny office and it limned the mechanic, turning her hair into a midnight river of ink flowing from the back of her cap. She was kneeling beside a cluttered desk working at jimmying the back off of a radio.

"I'm busy admiring both your beauty and complete steadiness while committing a burglary. Plus my nose has a Phillips-head fitting. You don't have the right tool," Toby whispered back smoothly, the flash of white teeth from his wide, flirtatious grin daring Happy to make good on her threat.

"But that nose is mounted on a _blockhead_ , so I could make it work. Now, why don't you shut up and get your hand off my back before I rip it off and shove it in your loud mouth. Got it?" She gritted, scowling over her shoulder.

"Will both of you stop it, already?" Walter muttered the question, exasperation evident even in his hushed tone. "Toby, aren't you supposed to be keeping a look out with Sylvester?"

"No," Toby contradicted. He straightened up and took a half step back, almost treading on Walter's toes, before adding, "It was my job to create the distraction sending your CO on a wild goose chase. I executed my part of the plan brilliantly, and I don't mind saying so since no one else will. Now I'm at loose ends, so I want to watch Happy in action."

Walter tsked. "Well go watch Sylvester's inaction instead. Happy and I have this. You're both literally and figuratively standing in the way of progress. This office is too cramped for all of us."

"Why don't _you_ go keep watch?" Toby argued, "Me and the roughly 300 million other people in this world who aren't bird watching weirdos don't know the call of the Ko'ko' bird. Isn't that the signal Sly chose to alert us? _I_ can help Happy."

"You wouldn't know a ballast tube from an inner tube and you don't know one end of a tool from another, so you'd be a useless assistant for Happy." Walter frowned, jaw setting stubbornly.

Voice slowly raising in volume, the doctor folded his arms across his chest. "You might have heard? I'm pretty smart _and_ I have a medical degree from Harvard. If I can handle a scalpel and identify a Eustachian tube, I can probably figure the rest of it out."

Happy stood up, nearly bumping heads with the aggravated shrink. "While you two ladies were standing here bickering, I got your damn ballast tube," she said holding up the part between her finger and thumb. "Now let's get the hell out of here before your stupid boss gets back."

Suddenly they heard a loud, piercing series of whistles from somewhere down the hall.

"Is that the Ko'ko' bird call?" "How the hell should I know?" "Go! Let's go!" The three friends shouted at once, tripping all over each other in their haste to evacuate the confined space. An avalanche of papers slid off the jostled desk and tumbled to the floor, some of it settling in drifts against the far wall.

The geniuses fell in a jumbled heap of arms and legs in the doorway, the coveted radio part skittering out of Happy's hand and rolling to the opposite side of the hall, just as an MP came to a halt not ten feet away.

"O'Brien! What is the meaning of this?" The officer demanded, his flashlight playing over the muddle of bodies.

Squinting into the beam, Walter looked up from his prone position on the bottom of the pile. "Uh, hello, _sir_." He wheezed as he yanked one of his arms free and gave an improper, mocking salute.

Happy and Toby disentangled themselves as quickly as possible. The three of them leapt to their feet and stood at attention.

"Well?! What are you doing here this time of night? Explain!"

"Um, _Sir_. Uh, we were hoping to see if our discharge orders came through. Isn't everyone wondering when we're all going home? If we were kept better informed we wouldn't have to resort to nefarious activities," Walter blurted out, disrespect evident in his patronizing tone.

"All of your discharge papers just got moved to the bottom of the stack," the sergeant snapped. "Now clean up this mess and get out of here. When not on duty, the three of you are confined to quarters until further notice. Don't let me catch you in here after hours again!"

The delinquent friends saluted as the MP stalked away to finish his rounds. Toby's salute quickly morphed into a rude gesture while Walter dropped once again to the floor, feeling around in search of the ballast tube.

Happy groused sourly, "I sure hope it was worth it, Walt."

OXOXOXOXOXO

Two weeks.

It'd been _two weeks_ since he'd dropped that bombshell on Paige.

And just like a bomber pilot, he hadn't stayed around to assess the damage. She hadn't seen him since. He was completely off the radar.

She'd asked everyone she saw if they knew him. She looked for him in the audience at her last two Saturday evening shows at the USO.

Nothing.

Of course it would've helped if she knew his name. That was the first question she would ask if she ever saw him again.

The next would be: What did he expect her to do with the information he imparted before he disappeared?

Her son was a _genius_? He'd figured that out from the less than ten minutes he'd spent interacting with Ralph?

It certainly explained a few things. Like how Ralph taught himself to read from her battered copies of 'Good Housekeeping'. Or why he spent three days labeling compass points all over the house. Or why he liked fiddling with broken gadgets better than playing with toys.

Paige hated slow days at work. Not only did it mean no tips, but her mind was always too busy wandering while the minutes plodded by.

She looked across the table at her stoic little boy as she rolled silverware into napkins. He was so serious all the time. Even now when he was gobbling down ice cream, his favorite treat, his eyes seemed to focus on a point far distant and completely undetectable to anyone else. Ralph didn't react at all to the claps of thunder chasing closely on the heels of the harsh strobes of lightening or the lashing of the punishing rain pummeling the roof and rattling the windows.

Being able to sit with her son was the one positive to the lack of customers caused by the storm. He was a frequent visitor at her job. Roxy wasn't only Paige's neighbor and one of the few people she trusted to watch Ralph, the kindly grandmother was also a part time cook at Stu's. When their shifts happened to overlap, Ralph would have to occupy himself for a time until one of the women was off the clock. Luckily Stu didn't object as long as the boy didn't bother customers or create a distraction for Paige.

He never did.

Because he lived in a world all his own. And the only man she'd ever met who held the precious treasure map to that world, she'd let slip away without asking his name.

As if her thoughts conjured him, the door burst open and the man himself blew in with a strong gust of wind and rain. His clothes were saturated and his shirt was plastered to his chest like a second skin.

Paige sat there goggling like a moron while he dripped, making a small lake around his feet on the chipped tile floor.

"Hey, Walter," Ralph piped up, pausing between spoonfuls to offer a rare acknowledgement.

Paige's gaze whipped around to her son. _Of course_ Ralph knew the man's name. She hadn't even thought to ask him.

Willing herself to snap out of her stupor, she rose to her feet and grabbed a stack of cup towels off of the bar. "Here you go," she offered, unsure, shoving the towels in his direction. Toward _Walter_. Walter. It was a good name. A strong name.

Walter dabbed at his clothes and scrubbed at his close-cropped hair, his thanks muffled by toweling.

Now that he was here, Paige's questions flew out of her head and scattered like a spooked flock of sparrows until she couldn't locate a single one. She stood there mute and still until he gestured at seat across from her son and inquired, "May I?"

Wide-eyed, she nodded her ascent and left to pour him a cup of coffee, hoping the familiar task would help her recover her wits. It had been years since she'd reacted this strongly to a man. If ever. She told herself it was because he held the keys to unlocking her mysterious son.

"Good to see you again, Ralph," Walter said with a fond smile. "I have something for you."

He reached into his soggy shirt pocket and withdrew the prized ballast tube.

The spoon dropped with a loud clatter into Ralph's nearly empty bowl. Face filled with wonder, the youngster tentatively reached for the gift. In awed disbelief he whispered, "For me?"

Nodding, Walter asked, "Did you bring your radio with you today?"

"In my knapsack under the bar." The boy was all but bouncing with excitement.

"Well, go and get it. Let's see if we can fix it."

Paige walked up just as both man and boy were exchanging identical grins of enthusiasm.

Her son leapt up and darted away while Paige was setting a steaming mug in front of Walter.

"I thought you could use a hot drink. I don't want you to catch cold from getting drenched in the rain." Her eyes were following her son as he was scrambling behind the bar. She'd never seen Ralph this thrilled about anything.

Walter gave her a fleeting, sidelong look. "Thanks, but I'm no more prone to contracting a virus because I got wet. That's an old wives' tale. The science doesn't support it. However, you are suffering from anemia. It causes your nails to be pitted. That's why your polish streaks. You need more iron in your diet."

Paige's mouth dropped open. She didn't know whether to be insulted or shocked at his gall. "My polish streaks because Ralph does it. He likes to paint. And I don't remember asking your opinion. You shouldn't point out flaws in others. That hurt my feelings. Do you understand?"

Walter cringed apologetically. "I've been told things like that before. People with high IQs tend to have low EQ. That's emotional quotient. I don't always recognize when I'm being inappropriate. I don't gauge emotions in others well, because I don't have them myself."

He glanced at Ralph as he dragged his knapsack out of its hiding place, hefted it over one shoulder and stumbled back toward the table. "And your son doesn't like to paint. He wants to hold your hand, but he has trouble processing touch."

Fascinated, Paige sank down into a chair next to Walter's while the whole flock of her scattered inquiries returned to roost. She wasn't going to let him escape this time until he'd answered every single one.


	5. Chapter 5

**WAIGING WAR CHAPTER 5**

 **AN: Fewer people are reading this story than some of my others, but the awesome response I'm getting through the reviews is keeping me typing. Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I live for the feedback.**

They talked for hours.

The conversation continued long after Paige watched in shock as Ralph wiggled his way onto Walter's lap so the boy could see to help fix the radio. Long after Paige's shift ended. Long after the pounding rain slowed to a drizzle. Long after Walter's damp clothes dried. Long after they ate the diner's terrible leftover meatloaf special and shared a plate of fries for dinner. And long after Ralph nodded off to sleep curled against Walter's chest. The time zipped swiftly by unnoticed.

One thing was for sure, this man was an odd duck. Weird, even. She'd certainly never met anyone like him.

He came across as aloof, but Paige could sense a deep loneliness in him. Not unlike her own. Raising a child by herself in a strange place was a lonely business indeed.

Walter claimed to lack feelings. She strongly disagreed. He may not be able to identify his feelings very well, but she had eyes. And the sight of her little boy snuggled up in his lap, completely trusting, while Walter held him protectively, and how with absent-minded affection his fingers brushed through Ralph's hair from time to time, those things told her everything she needed to know about his false claim.

Also, the genius sat there for hours patiently answering all of her equal parts confused and excited questions without a hidden agenda. He wasn't using Ralph in an attempt to get her into bed. Other men tried plying her son with candy or other treats hoping to win her favors. But Walter believed she was married and he'd wanted to help Paige connect with her boy anyway.

Because of that, she had chosen to give him the unvarnished truth about the circumstances of Ralph's birth. It was a hard thing to admit her mistakes. In those days, it could cost a woman her job or any ounce of respect she could garner and make her child the object of ridicule. Unfair when the father could walk away unscathed, but Practical Paige could only deal in harsh reality. Walter took it all in stride, however, accepting and even admiring her for doing everything in her power to protect and nurture Ralph.

Which, in turn, made him wildly attractive to her.

Even if she passed over his fathomless, intelligent eyes, that endearing cleft in his chin, his arrogance offset by a gorgeous rueful smile and all his other beautiful physical attributes, Paige couldn't deny an incomprehensible connection to him she'd never felt with anyone else.

And just her rotten luck, he was shipping out in the next four to six weeks.

When the seamier evening crowd began to trickle into the bar area to buy watered down drinks and scope the place for someone to share their misery for the night, the young mom reluctantly decided it was time to take her little boy home.

Normally Paige would feel uncomfortable if a veritable stranger offered to walk her to her house and she would refuse immediately. However, when Walter stood to his feet cradling her sleeping child and made the assumption he would carry the boy home for her, she agreed without thinking or questioning. Her faith in him was as astonishing as it was unexpected.

The moon was playing hide and seek behind the gradually dissipating rain clouds, so the street was more in shadow than light as they strolled along. Paige wasn't afraid, heaven knew she'd traversed this route hundreds of times on her own, but she had a sudden urge to hold Walter's hand or lean against him. Up to that point she hadn't realized what a heavy burden she was carrying all by herself. She decided then and there to welcome any help he offered for as long as he was available.

Knowing he wouldn't be receptive or he might misconstrue the grateful gesture made her fight the impulse to touch him and she clutched Ralph's bag in both hands to make sure they didn't reach out without her permission.

They walked in companionable, comfortable silence listening to the drone of insects, screeches of nocturnal birds, the wet palm fronds shivering and dripping in the still damp breeze and their own noisy thoughts.

When they reached her front door, she set Ralph's bag on the stoop and rummaged around in her apron pockets searching for her house key.

Suddenly feeling a tad shy, she quietly said, "This is it." And she held her arms out to take her son.

"It would be more efficient and less disturbing for Ralph if I took him inside and put him down myself." Walter whispered back, and once again assuming she would voice no objection to letting him in, waited for Paige to open the door.

The rusted screen door protested loudly as she pulled it toward them and held it open with one hip. With some difficulty, she jiggled her key into the lock, and after a few seconds of fumbling, she managed to turn the knob and open the door into the cramped kitchen.

"Your lock needs graphite. That's why it's hard to turn the key," Walter stated matter-of-factly while he gently shifted the bulk of Ralph's weight to his other arm.

Paige sent him a wry smile over her shoulder as she held both doors open for him. "This place needs a lot of things. Graphite for the lock isn't even in the top ten of most essential ones."

As Walter trailed her down the poky hall to the bedroom, she was suddenly hyper-aware of how run down her little house must appear. Everything in sight seemed to sag with fatigue, from the warped linoleum floor to the water-stained ceilings to the third hand, threadbare furniture. It was all meticulously clean and orderly, but everything had seen better decades.

He looked singularly unaffected by the shabbiness, as if he took no notice of it at all. Paige raised her chin, stubbornly refusing to be embarrassed as she turned back the covers on Ralph's small trundle bed.

Walter carefully laid the boy on the mattress, freezing momentarily when Ralph mumbled something in his sleep and turned over onto his side. Paige crouched down and removed her son's shoes before pulling the covers up around him. She kissed his forehead tenderly before smoothing his hair.

When she straightened back up, her eyes met Walter's and their gazes held unwavering for a few endless moments. Her pulse was throbbing as she glanced briefly at his mouth. His full lower lip was plainly designed for kissing and she had to force herself to resist the impulse to test the wayward idea.

As her eyes drifted back up to meet his, the air crackled with a white hot spark of desire and Paige swayed toward him involuntarily anyway. An instant later she was watching his back as he whirled around and left the room.

Okay.

As if nothing happened, she found Walter casually standing by the open kitchen door in the process of bringing Ralph's knapsack inside off of the porch.

Gratitude flooded her. No one ever looked out for Ralph except her. "Thank you," Paige said around the achiness in her throat.

"Oh, uh, I didn't know if you forgot it was out there and-and I didn't think it was a good idea to leave it on the porch all night."

She chuckled as she took the bag from him and set it on the cracked Formica counter. "Not just for bringing in Ralph's things. For today. For everything. I can't thank you enough. You know, for a guy who says he has no feelings, you sure are sweet."

Giving her a pleased, bashful grin, he answered, "M-my pleasure." In a rush he continued, "Would it, uh, be alright if I come again soon? I could help translate your son for you. And-and you could do me a favor too."

Curious, she smiled and asked, "What's that?"

Walter took a deep breath and explained, "From my observations, I've concluded you are very good with humans. Lots of EQ. I have three other genius friends stationed here too. We could all help you understand Ralph. And-and, well… no one likes us. We have difficulties relating to and working with people. Maybe you could help translate normals for us?" His expression was all eager hopefulness.

How could she possibly say no to that look? Paige gave him a bright smile and replied, "I have Sunday off. Maybe you guys could come for lunch?"

OXOXOXOXOXO

"But what do we really know about her other than she's a good singer and she's got a genius son? What makes you think she's qualified to help us relate to normals? Or even see the need to relate to normals for that matter?" Toby asked skeptically as they wandered down the road toward Paige's home late Sunday morning.

Walter sighed and rolled his eyes, impatient to arrive at their destination. The other two were meandering along at a snail's pace. At the rate they were going, they would have to report back before they'd even reached Paige's place. "If we stopped smarting off to authority, we'd spend far less time confined to quarters or wasting time scrubbing pots in the kitchen for one thing. She's the one who made that suggestion when I saw her last. Simple, I grant you. But logical and absolutely right. And I'm telling you, I recognize something in her. You'll see. Help me out here, Sly."

"She's pretty?" Sylvester contributed unhelpfully.

Walter gave up trying to convince his doubtful friends. "It's a free lunch that isn't US Army issued."

"Well, when you put it like that…" Toby uttered, his sarcastic smirk speaking louder than his words, until he mumbled as an aside, "or it could be you have _feelings_ for her. And we're your cover story."

Walter scoffed. "I don't have those kinds of feelings. I'll admit I admire her interest in connecting with her son. That's all. You're the one who pointed out the fact we shouldn't leave Ralph to struggle like we did growing up. Not when we have the ability help."

"Yes. Very benevolent of you, 197. What's next? Donating our organs to science?" the shrink drawled, one eyebrow quirked.

Walter was about to suggest exactly which organs Toby could donate he'd never miss, starting with his brain and ending with his… but luckily they'd finally arrived on the Dineen's doorstep. The genius hesitated for a second, swallowing the absurd bout of nerves, before opening the screen door and raising one fist to knock.

The door popped open, revealing a smiling, barefoot Paige. Her hair was pulled back in a kerchief and she was wearing a matching gingham halter dress that accentuated her curves and showed off her long, smooth legs. Walter's eyes were the next thing to pop open. She was stunning. His lips parted as those wide open eyes did a quick and thorough scan, memorizing her all dimensions against his will.

Ralph interrupted their mutual staring contest as he edged around his mother's legs, saying an enthusiastic, "Walter! You came back!" His young face lit up with an infectious ear-to-ear grin.

Walter ruffled the boy's hair. "Of course I did."

Paige took a step back and gestured for them to enter while saying a welcoming, "Please come in. Ralph, let's get out of the doorway so our guests can come inside." She put a hand on her son's shoulder to guide him to her side. The boy was so enthralled with their visitors, for the first time he didn't shrink away from her touch.

The three geniuses crowded into the tiny kitchen seeming to take up all the remaining space. Walter was forced to stand shoulder to shoulder with the young mother, making him feel like the remaining air was being sucked out of the confined space as well.

"I'm glad you could come, Walter," she said, eyeing him from the side while busily wrapping thick sandwiches in wax paper and placing them in a box. "Won't you introduce me to your friends?"

Walter shifted from one foot to the other feeling tongue-tied and as if he'd momentarily forgotten his native language. He cleared his dry throat. "Oh, sure-sure. I, uh,…"

Toby spoke up, cutting through the awkwardness, "I'm Dr. Tobias M. Curtis, Toby to my friends, Harvard trained surgeon of the mind." He motioned toward Sly. "And this here's Sylvester Dodd. Mathematician currently in Guam at the pleasure of his father the colonel, much to his own displeasure. Our mechanic friend is the only one missing from our gang today," he made a regretful face, before elaborating, "She's on duty today. She always ends up getting stuck with the least desirable shifts." The psychiatrist thrust his hand out for her to shake.

She quickly wiped her hands on one of the napkins she was tucking into the box on top of the sandwiches, and shook Toby's hand. When she extended her hand to Sly however, he just shook his head apologetically. "He's a germaphobe," Toby explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Paige said, giving the teen an understanding smile and letting her hand drop to her side.

"No need to be. It's not your fault," Sylvester returned, shrugging. "Nice to meet you. And Ralph. We're very excited to meet Ralph," the teen said, grinning down at the small boy tugging on Walter's trouser leg.

"We're going on a beach picnic," Ralph whispered loudly.

Paige looked anxiously at the pair of new faces. "I hope that's okay. There isn't much room to sit and it's so hot and close inside the house today."

Walter nodded while the others looked at him in askance. "That's great." He'd agreed for all of them, even though he'd never understood the appeal of lounging on dirt next to some water. Eating on the beach was even worse because sand inevitably ended up in the food.

The day turned out to be wholly pleasant anyway. The food was surprisingly sand-free and exceptional. The company was superior.

And Walter's instincts about Paige were spot on, of course. She laughed at Toby's witticisms, but called him out on his more outrageous or unnecessarily crude or cruel observations. And she patiently encouraged Sylvester until she was able to coax him into wading into the surf for a few minutes with Ralph, so the mathematician could show the little boy some interesting creatures he found in the tide pools.

Walter spent most of the day building an authentic-looking sand fortress with Ralph and the others. He taught the little genius about hoists and pulleys as they fashioned a working drawbridge. They talked about mathematical scale and proportions as they made the arrow slit windows and a battalion of cannons. They discussed saturation as they filled the mote full of seawater.

Meanwhile, Paige kept on poking flowers into the turrets and making little flags out of the toothpicks and wax paper left from their lunch. She insisted a proper castle needed flags flying by the gates and argued aesthetics are just as important as all the science and math mumbo jumbo. When it was finished, she awarded each builder with a flower diadem she'd woven.

Most of the time, the geniuses were all over the place, absorbed in their own projects and only interacted when they needed to exchange information. It was more than nice to work on something together for a change. Even it if was simply showing Ralph how to build a proper sand castle.

The group was mellow and sun toasted and covered in grit as they walked Paige and Ralph home in the late afternoon. Half way there, Walter swung the tired young boy onto his shoulders. Ralph gasped then giggled and fisted his little hands into his new hero's hair, irreparably crushing the wilted flower crown. He drummed his sandy heels against Walter's chest in delight until they were stilled by the man's steadying hands on his shins.

Paige gave Walter a melting look of admiration that didn't go unnoticed by the shrink.

Sylvester was occupied saying his farewells to Ralph. Walter was busy squirting the graphite he 'liberated' from the base's supply closet into the keyhole in Paige's doorknob. So Toby took the opportunity to lean into Paige and murmur, "Are you sure you want to take this crazy bunch on? Just to let you know, Happy suffers from hostility and anger dissonance syndrome. Sylvester has anxiety issues and more phobias than you can shake a stick at. Walter is textbook intellectual megalomania and anti-obedience syndrome. And me? I'm a narcissist with a slight dusting of addiction tendencies. I'm not trying to scare you off, but I wanted to make sure you aren't walking in blind before you're committed to this little endeavor."


	6. Chapter 6

WAIGING WAR - CHAPTER 6

 **AN: Sorry this has taken so long to update. I was in LA LA land for a few days last week and I'm just now catching up in real life. (No, I didn't get to tour CBS studios or go by the garage, much to my disappointment) Thank you for your patience. I just want to tell you all how much I appreciate everyone who's reading and especially my faithful reviewers. Your words mean the world!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I'm taking many liberties with history with the case portion of this story. Forgive me.**

A 'firecracker'. Or a 'pistol'. That's what Paige's father would've called Happy if he'd ever had the dubious pleasure of crossing swords with her.

The female genius was five feet two inches of feisty bravado wrapped in filthy coveralls. The strike first before being stricken kind. Even though the diminutive dynamo wasn't much older than Sly, she was not only fighting the rampant distrust of anyone of Asian decent, but she was a woman with superior skills in an almost exclusively male profession. Paige couldn't help completely admiring her. And being a little bit in awe.

When Happy was standing in the Dineen's postage stamp living room rattling on about how she synthesized a polymer using palm sap and some other chemical goop she found around the motor pool to patch the leaks in the roof, Paige told her so. It effectively stopped the incomprehensible explanation mid-synthesis.

The mechanic stood there blinking for a full minute before she finally formulated a reply, "Oh… Uh, I guess you're okay too. For a normal."

Paige bit her lip to keep from laughing at the backhanded compliment. "I really appreciate you fixing stuff around my house too."

Happy shrugged, "It's the least I could do. You have a kid and all that. Plus, I've noticed Sylvester seems a little less scared of his shadow and Toby's been less of an annoying pain in my..." She cut her eyes in Ralph's direction, "…backside lately. And besides, Walter wouldn't shut up about it. Oh, and at least the food is edible when we're here. Better than army rations. I figure I owe ya."

It was only the second time the two women had met. Toby was absolutely correct when he said the machinist always got stuck with the shifts no one else wanted.

Every one of the geniuses was stuck with the very last ship out date too, apparently because of all the incidents of insubordination. None of them had much left to do relating to their specific areas of expertise. Instead, they were being forced to help dismantle equipment, inventory supplies and clean up the base for the projected reduction in personnel. As a result, they all spent every minute they weren't required to spend on base either at Stu's Bar and Grill or Paige's house.

The upshot for the waitress was free babysitting and home repairs. The downsides included the total lack of privacy, the utter dismissal of any sort of boundaries, and her grocery bill was going through her newly leak-free roof.

Not that she truly minded. Because Ralph was thriving under their attention. She had never seen her son more animated and engaged in his entire life. The constant care and intellectual stimulation from others like himself was rapidly drawing him out of his shell.

She adamantly refused to worry about what would happen when the geniuses returned to the United States. Particularly Walter. Ralph's attachment was growing daily and it was both endearing as well as terrifying.

A few days before, her son had tried on Walter's uniform garrison cap. Then the boy snapped an enthusiastic salute and said, "Look at me, Mommy! Corporal O'Brien reporting for duty!" She and Walter chuckled indulgently a few moments later as the hat sank down, bending Ralph's ears and covering his eyes.

The very next time they were together, Walter brought Ralph a smaller garrison cap of his very own. It was as if he'd bestowed the untold treasures of El Dorado on the boy. The hat was still too big, but her son wore it everywhere he went. Even to bed. And he thought his mother was being 'wholly unreasonable' when she insisted he couldn't wear it in the bathtub.

On this particular day, the whole gang was hanging around the Dineen house, filling it up beyond maximum capacity. Toby was being a distraction doing card tricks that were failing to impress both Paige's four year old and Sylvester. The three of them sat at the rickety, wooden picnic table in the tiny front garden. Sly kept waving his hand at Toby's face as if he was shooing away a pesky fly. The teen was attempting to show Ralph the basics of chess, his own well-loved board set up between them. Happy and Walter were busy patching up the roof and shoring up floorboards with supplies they'd commandeered while dismantling temporary structures at the military base.

Paige mostly left them to their own devices while she occupied herself frying chicken and making hot water biscuits for their dinner. August was morphing rapidly into early September, and the late summer heat left the kitchen miserably steamy. Even with all the newly repaired windows open and with her few fans running at full speed, the air felt still and sticky, warning her an afternoon thunderstorm was brewing.

She peered out the kitchen window above the sink and spied Walter replacing a sagging porch step. His khaki button down shirt, long since a forgotten casualty of the sultry weather, hung damp and limp over the porch rail, occasionally flailing in surrender to the sluggish breeze. As a result, Paige was enjoying the best view she'd ever had out that particular window. He was clad from the waist up in only a thin, army issue sleeveless t-shirt that stuck to his body like a second skin. The man was lanky, but his sinewy arm and chest muscles were well defined and slick with the sheen of perspiration. Oh, my.

Paige delivered herself a harsh lecture. They hadn't been alone since the night she'd almost kissed him after he helped her put Ralph to bed. He'd given no indication he was interested in her in that regard. And he'd been so kind. Of course she was attracted. But she shouldn't be covertly drooling over his body no matter how marvelously fit he was. It had just been so long since she'd felt anything remotely romantic or… sexual toward a man. The intensity of her reaction to him was a little shocking.

Thunder was a far distant rumble as Paige took the biscuits out of the oven. By the time she had the table set, lightening was ripping the bottom out of the clouds and rain gushed down sending the drenched geniuses running headlong for the shelter of the house.

Paige fussed over them, plying them with towels and hanging their wet clothes to drip dry by the open oven door. Ralph thought it was highly amusing to sit at the dinner table in his underwear with his male friends, all of them stripped to t-shirts and boxers.

In an attempt to keep her eyes from wandering over every deliciously exposed inch of Walter, Paige looked at everyone else around the table. In the process, she noticed Happy appeared to be having the exact same struggle keeping her gaze from lingering on a certain doctor. Well, well. That development was certainly interesting.

When they were just starting to pass around the food after thoroughly poking fun at each other's pale legs and lack of proper dinner attire, there was a loud knock at the door.

At first Paige thought it was the screen door banging in a gust of wind. But the noise came again, louder and accompanied by a curt voice saying, "Open up! US Army."

"Tell them we gave at the office," Toby quipped when Paige got up to answer the summons. Walter followed behind her protectively, a frown of concern on his face.

She peeked around the door at the older man on her porch. His gray crew cut matched his posture, both standing at rigid attention and he was wearing aviator sunglasses in spite of the dark clouds and the downpour. "I need to speak to Walter O'Brien," he barked.

Paige stepped back as Walter pulled the door open further in order to see around it, "What's this about…? Oh, it's you."

"You are a hard man to track down, O'Brien. Can I come in?" He addressed the question to Paige and she gestured for him to enter. The man extended his hand for her to shake as he peered over his glasses, eyeing Walter's state of undress up and down with an air of disbelieving censure. "Sergeant Cabe Gallo, ma'am."

"Oh…uh, it's not what you th-think, sir. There was a sudden cloudburst. They-they got wet." She was tripping over her tongue trying to explain why a half dressed soldier was in her house, when Walter interrupted. "You don't owe him an explanation, Paige. You don't owe him anything."

Walter's jaw was set and although his tone could seem cold and clipped at times, his voice sounded downright frigid. Rude and short were also not unusual, but the hate filled contempt was certainly new.

"Put it aside, O'Brien. Your country needs you. Trust me. I wouldn't be here asking if the situation wasn't dire or I had any other options," the sergeant ground out.

Trying to smooth over the obvious tension, Paige indicated the dining table crowded with gawking, eavesdropping geniuses. "Um, right this way. We were just sitting down to a meal. Would you like for me to set you a place?"

"Thank you. That won't be necessary, but I wouldn't say no to a cold drink."

Walter caught Paige by the elbow as she was turning to fetch Sergeant Gallo a glass of iced tea. "Don't bother. He won't be staying."

Glaring at the superior officer, he added, "Trust you? Is that a joke? I won't be doing any more of your dirty work. The outcome of our last venture was... less than favorable." His fingertips briefly bit into Paige's arm before he released her.

"That last op didn't go how either of us wanted it to go. But we have a situation that needs to be addressed. Everyone on this island could be in danger."

Walter clenched his jaw, then spat, "Let's have it. What corner has the army painted us all into now?"

"I need to read you in on this mission in private, son."

"Don't call me that. And whatever you came here to say to me, you can say in front of Paige or anyone else in this house. Or you can keep your secrets to yourself elsewhere."

Ignoring the belligerent tone, Cabe sighed and reluctantly elaborated, "This information doesn't leave this house. Clear? We've known for some time about the smuggling on this island and we've mostly turned a blind eye. We had bigger fish to fry, so to speak. But now that the war is more or less over, the brass has been cracking down and they've been sniffing around the base looking to tie up loose ends before the majority of us leave this rock for good. In looking over the inventory, they discovered the supplies being trafficked weren't just bacon and beans, medical supplies and building materials. Someone managed to get their hands on quite the cache of munitions... Included in that collection is an undetonated H bomb."

"How does the military lose track of a weapon like that?!" Paige exclaimed, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open in astonishment.

"Too many hands, too many forms. Too much chaos after we dropped the other two. Everyone thought everyone else secured the remaining ones. No one remembers laying eyes on it after the attack on Nagasaki. It was last seen on an aircraft carrier not far from here. We've had some intel it's going to be moved tomorrow night. It's just chatter. Nothing concrete. We've narrowed the suspect list down to four or five individuals. At least one of them is an inside man. We've been monitoring his activities, but so far he's been real slippery. We haven't been able to catch them at it or outsmart them. But I know a group of people who are smarter. Sylvester can look over the inventory and suspicious manifests to see if he picks up any anomalies. See if he spots any codes within the lists themselves or if he can track their movements using the numbers. It would back up our suspicions if Toby can get a bead on which ones are acting cagey. We need Happy to pick locks and help search the place. We need the both of you to help dismantle or disarm the bomb once it's found. I don't need to tell you what it means if this gets into the wrong hands. What's worse and what makes our time short? Our source told us their Plan B if they're caught or can't find a buyer is to detonate it to eliminate any witnesses, destroy all the evidence and cover their tracks."

Paige gasped, "And kill everyone on the island in the process?"

Cabe expression was grave. "These people are ruthless. They would consider civilian casualties collateral damage. It wouldn't faze them in the slightest."

"Sounds familiar," Walter's lips thinned as he glared at the other man.

Paige touched the genius' tense shoulder. "What does that mean? Walter? What do you mean by that? We can't sit by and let innocent people die."

The hard look in Walter's eyes softened as his gaze met hers. "Don't worry, Paige. I'm going to help. You and Ralph will be safe. I will not let anything happen to you. I promise."

The sergeant's eyebrow lifted at the uncharacteristic show of sympathetic affection. "There's a party to celebrate VJ Day at the Dusit Thani Hotel tomorrow night. All the suspects will there for one reason or other. Our source will make sure you're all on the guest list." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully on Paige. "It would look less suspicious if you attended as couples. How do you feel about being a plus one, Miss Dineen?"

"Not a chance. I won't have her in such dangerous company," Walter growled.

"She's in dangerous company every day she goes to work. Her boss is actually one of the possible perpetrators," Cabe answered.

"I have nothing to wear," Paige blurted. When they flashed her uncanny identical incredulous looks, she added, "I'm not being a diva. I mean it. I'm a broke waitress. I don't have anything to wear to a fancy party."

"I'm sure the army can furnish you with whatever you need," Cabe reassured her, shaking his head.


	7. Chapter 7

WAIGING WAR CHAPTER 7

 **AN: Only one or two more chapters to go on this story. Then I've got a couple of plot bunnies I've been wrestling with I'll try to tackle. Hopefully they will be more in line with canon. Thanks to everyone going on this journey with me.**

 ** ** **I shamelessly borrowed *ahem* ripped off *ahem* some lines from True Colors 1X06 in this chapter. If you love and have rewatched that episode as many times as I have, you'll recognize them.******

It was a completely normal biological reaction for any typical, healthy male. The problem was, he'd never been what one might call typical.

Still, it was absurd to feel embarrassed or ashamed. Or like every detail of the erotic dream was outwardly visible blazing across his flushed face. It was true he had control over the direction of his dreams, but this one took an unexpected turn and he flat-out chose not to correct the course. And he'd reversed and re-watched. Several times.

They'd been spending lots of time together. The conversation they had last night after everyone else left was on a more intimate level than was usual for him. He'd opened up a little too much. That was all.

He'd long ago conceded Paige was attractive. Very much so. Beautiful even. Obviously a bit more sexually charismatic than any other woman he'd been around, so it was understandable his subconscious would pick up on all those… details.

Walter esteemed her for many reasons. Her looks didn't make up one iota of the reasons he held her in such high regard.

He knew all of those facts logically, but when he woke up from the dream painfully aroused and aching with desire, it was difficult to recall anything else except how much he wanted her. He'd never felt anything even close to this in his life. It was… disturbing. And frighteningly compelling.

Since he was earmarked for a 'special assignment' Walter wasn't required to get out of bed at the same time as his infantile bunkmates, so the genius lay on his cot taking deep breaths trying to quell his all-too-apparent enthusiasm for the dream until everyone else had left the barracks. The immature idiots surrounding him were always trying to get him to comment or react to the pictures of pin up girls they kept hanging on the walls around the room or the lewd magazines they pored over while making suggestive innuendos and disgusting gestures. If they found out the genius damn near had a wet dream, he'd never hear the end of it.

When the coast was finally clear, he hobbled straight for the showers.

Ignoring the hot water faucet entirely, gasping, he stepped directly into the cold spray in an attempt to cool his over heated thoughts as well as calm his raging…

He badly needed to focus on something else. Anything else.

Cabe sent Happy to pick him up mid-morning. Walter still harbored resentment toward Sergeant Gallo, but he'd never been more thankful for the man's choice of driver. Happy didn't require him to make conversation. She was content to leave him alone with his thoughts.

The jeep rattled and bounced over the rutted dirt road into town while Walter's mind drifted back to the previous evening.

The whole group had finished dinner and made tentative plans to meet at the Dineen's house the next day to finalize their strategy for the pending case. Cabe agreed to bring the blueprints for the hotel and try to procure appropriate clothes for them to wear to the party. He left shortly after, needing to make the arrangements. All the others left at the same time so they could catch a ride back to the base with the sergeant.

Walter volunteered to stay behind and help clean up the kitchen. His real purpose was to find out directly from Paige if she was actually willing to join them on such a dangerous mission. He expressed concern because her son depended on her. He felt she shouldn't be putting herself in jeopardy.

She quickly assured him she was not only willing but eager to assist in whatever capacity she was able. She'd simply answered, "What my son needs is to see me help you."

Because of her selflessness, Walter's already fathomless respect for her grew even deeper. So in turn, he found himself opening up about the reasons for his animosity toward Cabe. He told her how the trajectory coordinates he'd calculated for a safe drop zone for medical supplies and aid packages had been used to drop a series of bombs on the isolated village instead, resulting in an unforgivable number of civilian casualties.

Clearly Cabe knew, but Walter had never told anyone else about the incident.

When she'd looked at him with compassion, telling him it wasn't his fault, that he shouldn't blame himself, that he didn't know, it released a tremendous amount of pressure he didn't realize was sitting square on his chest. And he could breathe, take a truly deep breath, for the first time in months. Stupid, useless tears of relief stung the corners of his eyes until he looked down at his feet blinking rapidly.

Paige touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips for just a second. Then she did the perfect thing. She turned back to drying dishes and changed the subject, allowing him to collect himself.

Now he and Happy were heading over to her house and Walter wasn't sure how he could face her after their talk. Or after his dream.

It was probably best not to revisit that.

Walter was relieved to discover they were the last to arrive. The more people around, the less awkward it would be. However, he couldn't seem to make up his mind whether to be grateful or disappointed Paige's presence wasn't immediately evident.

Of course the psychiatrist picked up on Walter's unspoken signals. "If you're looking for the waitress, she'll be back shortly. She went to her room to try on her threads for tonight's fun and games."

Before Walter could comment, Cabe interjected, "Paige brought some things to my attention we need to consider. Her boss came by this morning and asked her to sing a few songs at the shindig tonight. That's her cover story right there. He brought by a dress to match the other performers' outfits. He also told her the hotel is hurting for wait staff for the party. He asked if any of her new friends would be interested in making a couple of extra bucks. Bam. That takes care of the rest of you. No need to get all dolled up going in as dating couples or worry about getting onto the guest list. Stu even agreed to supply the uniforms."

There was absolutely no reason for the crushing sensation of dismay. It was illogical. The date wouldn't have been real anyway even if he wanted it to be. Which he didn't. They'd just been provided with the ideal reasons for all of them to attend the party. Plus, waiters and waitresses would have unfettered access to places like the kitchen and storage areas while most party goers ignored them like they were nothing more than part of the fixtures. It was more efficient this way. Much better. It _was_.

Walter almost had himself convinced.

Until Paige emerged from the back of the house in a slinky, mouth-watering black dress. Its halter neck bared both her shoulders and back and the skirt was slit up to mid thigh on one side. That single creamy, flawless appendage teased Walter mercilessly when she walked past.

Paige wrinkled her nose and asked the group, "Do I look okay?"

"Yes!" Instantly burst from Walter's unguarded lips. He found himself completely unable to tear his eyes away from her.

"You silver-tongued devil, you," Toby muttered.

Fortunately, Ralph chose that minute to ricochet into the room skidding to a halt directly in front of Walter. "Look! See what Sylvester and I found?" The excited youngster provided a much needed diversion as he pointed out a pattern of repeated sets of numbers he and the mathematician found on the intercepted manifests.

It was decided Sylvester would stay back with Ralph and continue to review invoices for evidence. Cabe would be providing security outside on the grounds of the hotel making sure none of the suspects left before they'd been eliminated. Meanwhile, after the behaviorist identified the most likely culprits, Toby and Happy would search the building for any indication of the location of the weapons. When Paige finished her set, she would mingle with Walter on the main dance floor covertly listening to as many private chats as they could until the perpetrators were positively identified and their plans were revealed.

Garbed as a waiter in a white tail coat, black pants and black bow tie and overtly seething at having to leave Paige behind to ride with Stu, Walter squeezed into the back of the flatbed truck beside Happy, Toby and the other extra help heading to the hotel. "I don't understand why Paige couldn't come with us. I don't like the idea of her going anywhere with her crooked boss," he hissed toward his coconspirators.

As he was budging closer to Happy with the handy excuse of giving Walter more room, Toby chuckled and whispered back, "C'mon, 197. She's worked for the guy for years. It would have been suspicious if we insisted she ride with us. We have to be there early to help set up, remember? You just don't want other men ogling her like you've been doing all afternoon."

"That's ridiculous," Walter returned, his lips thinning slightly, "I wasn't _ogling_ anyone. I promised nothing would happen to her. How can I guarantee her safety if I'm not with her?"

Happy looked at him with disbelief, but she made a half-hearted attempt at being consoling if only so he would calm down and not blow their cover, "Cabe's got it, Walt. He'll be following at a discreet distance." Then she delivered a glare and a sharp jab to Toby's ribs when he tried to rest his arm about her shoulders.

Walter fell silent, but he was still fuming while he disciplined his thoughts to go over and over the plans and possible outcomes in his head.

The first part of the operation was a resounding success. Toby was able to eliminate two people from Sly's findings, the files he reviewed earlier and by observing gestures, expressions and mannerisms. That left three suspects to track. One of them was Paige's employer. The other two were the hotel's owner, Jacques Le Beau and his wife Clara. They had yet to identify the inside man, but Walter was watching all three closely to see if they singled out anyone in uniform for anything resembling a hushed exchange or signal.

He did his best to shut out the beautiful woman singing on stage. Distractions were unwelcome if he wanted this operation to be executed in a timely manner…and if he wanted to get the same distraction home both quickly and safely to her son.

As a result, he didn't note when she was no longer on stage. Consequently, he nearly dropped the tray of champagne flutes he was pretending to distribute when she came up behind him and whispered in his ear, "Have you got anything yet?"

He pivoted around to face her, setting the tray of drinks carefully on a nearby table after steadying the teetering glassware. It was the surprise, not her proximity that was causing his pulse to jump erratically, he was sure. It definitely wasn't the heady scent of her perfume or the caress of her warm breath on his cheek when she'd asked her question.

He took one deep, shuddering breath of his own before he could reply. "Oh, uh… Yes. Well, Toby has narrowed the list of suspects to three. Stu is one of them. I've been able to follow him around pretty easily. So far, he hasn't done or said anything condemning or revealing. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get close to the other two. It's the hotel owner and his wife. They've been dancing most of the time."

"That's easy. Let's dance next to them," Paige said with a shrug as if it was the simplest answer on Earth.

"Oh… I-I, um, I'm working. There must be a more efficient way." Walter's eyes widened as he fumbled over his justification.

Paige grinned. "You're entitled to a little break. Besides, what are they going to do? Fire you? And this _is_ the most efficient way."

He grimaced. "I don't dance."

She'd stopped listening, however, and grabbed both of his hands walking backwards out onto the dance floor. "Ready?"

Walter emitted a little distressed whine and mumbled a short, "No."

They paused next to the Le Beaus and she leaned toward him and asked softly, "Do you know where to put your hands?"

He knew where he was sorely tempted to put his hands, but he refrained and grasped her fingers with one and slid the other one around to cover her shoulder. It was safe territory, but it didn't keep him from acknowledging the softness of her skin or the scent of her shampoo.

"You're not pushing me on a swing," Paige giggled, "Put your hand lower."

Walter's lips parted as he stroked his hand down her bare back to rest just below her shoulder blade. He swallowed noisily, and she said, a little breathlessly, "Lower. Walter, put your hand lower."

He slipped his hand even farther down and around her, and Paige's voice dropped too. She murmured huskily, "Good. Now keep it there at the small of my back."

They began shuffling and swaying in time to the music and suddenly he was dancing with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

She smiled at him turning his insides molten. Her eyes sparkling flirtatiously, she praised, "Not bad. It's easy, right?"

He cleared his suddenly dry throat and babbled, "Basic mathematics. Count the beats. Four-four time. 60 beats per minute."

"Well, that explains it," she teased him at the same time as both her nearness and lithe movements tantalized him. She was a warm bundle of temptation in his arms, her body occasionally brushing against his. Of their own accord his fingers began a slow slide downward as his arm tightened around her waist bringing her closer.

It was a good thing the couple next to them didn't appear to be speaking to each other because he wouldn't have been able to pick up one word over the pounding of his heart.

They somehow managed to follow the other pair of dance partners around the floor toward the edge of the room.

Paige pressed fully into him making him nearly go cross-eyed, enticing him to touch his mouth to her neck where the soft tendrils of her hair stirred when he exhaled.

Her lips skimmed his ear as she murmured, "Walter? Look, they're following someone out that door into the next room."

What? Feeling abnormally sluggish, his brain finally connected and translated what she was trying to convey. "Did you see who it was?" He asked, his words a little shaky.

"No. I could tell it was a man and he was in a navy uniform. I couldn't see anything else."

Walter immediately released Paige. It wasn't wholly necessary to lead her by the hand, but for some reason he felt he should anyway and did so as they moved away from the other dancers in the direction the Le Beaus went. His eyes darted around trying to figure out how to get to them while remaining undercover. "There. The balcony off the ballroom. If we go out there, we can climb onto the balcony of the next room. The one they entered with the mystery man. We can hide out there beside the open doors and see if we can overhear anything or get a glimpse of the man they left with."

Paige looked at him in askance. "Climb? In this dress?"

Suppressing frustration now that his focus shifted and was entirely fixed on capturing their prey, he said, "I'll help you." And he continued striding out the door practically pulling her behind him out onto the balcony.

The breeze felt heavenly after the heat of the ballroom and the press of bodies all around them. He had no time to think about it though as he clambered onto the rail and, trying for stealth, jumped to the adjoining one only slightly stumbling over his feet on the landing, arms pin-wheeling momentarily until he stabilized.

He abruptly turned and held out his arms for Paige, looking at her expectantly. She shook her head. "You're kidding, right?"

Walter frowned at her impatiently. "Don't worry. I'll catch you. Most likely." His whisper came out harsh-sounding.

"Great. What if I pull you over with me?" She mouthed, still looking hesitant.

He briefly glanced down. "I estimate it's only about a twelve foot drop. The odds of sustaining life-threatening injuries are minimal. Don't look down." He reached for her as if that settled it.

Sighing, Paige yanked off her heels and teetered up on to the rail on stocking feet. Gathering her skirt up around her thighs so it wouldn't restrict her movements, she lurched toward Walter. He froze for a split second at the sight of her bared legs and the glimpse of the garters holding up her unmentionables, but he recovered in time to catch her. It was more of a creative fall than a jump, and she gracelessly landed on top of him as her momentum pushed him backwards, tackling him to the tiles in the process.

"I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay," Paige breathed to herself.

"I'm not," he grunted softly as she scrambled to get up.

She gave him an exasperated look and helped him to his feet. When they were both upright again, they stood stock still, listening intently to the voices on the other side of the open doors. He motioned for her to move with him as he slunk over to stand closer against the wall by the doorway.

They picked up talk of a delivery happening in the cove, something about the buyer being nervous with all the officers on the property and reassurances the party was the perfect cover.

Then one of the voices suggested they move out onto the balcony where it was cooler and so they could be positive they weren't overheard by anyone in the ballroom.

Paige and Walter's gazes collided in panic at being discovered. There was nowhere to hide and it would take too long to get back onto the other landing.

With his thoughts whirring thinking of possible solutions and discarding them just as rapidly, it took him a moment to register what Paige was asking.

"Walter, have you ever kissed a woman before?"

Blinking, he shook his head. Why was that pertinent to their current situation?

"Well, get ready. You're about to."

That's when Paige grabbed him by the lapels and mashed her lips against his.


	8. Chapter 8

WAIGING WAR CHAPTER 8

 **AN: This chapter was a booger to write! It gave me all kinds of trouble. And I'm still not totally happy with it. Hopefully it'll pass muster anyway. Let me know what you think.**

 **Also, this story might actually need a couple more chapters to conclude.**

 **OXOXOXOXOXO**

Paige had been dreaming of kissing Walter for weeks. Truth be told, she'd fantasized about it _way_ more than she probably should have since the very first time she noticed him in the audience at the USO.

But she'd never imagined this.

Eyes wide open and unblinking, he stood stiff as a statue.

At this rate, her brilliant idea was never going to work. They were about to be discovered and there would be no way to explain what they were doing out on that balcony.

"Walter!" Paige whispered urgently, "Snap out of it and kiss me back!"

Haltingly Walter bent his rigid arms and grasped her by the waist pulling her hips into contact with his. He tilted his head slightly to one side and tentatively he touched his lips to hers. Pulling away a fraction and frowning briefly as if evaluating the experience, he licked his lips as she watched in fascination. Then his eyelids gradually slipped shut and he set his mouth more firmly against hers sucking lightly on her lower lip.

Her knees nearly gave way.

Trying to find her equillibrium, she smoothed her hands up his solid chest to his shoulders. Then she trailed her nails over the nape of his neck and finally threaded her fingers through the short hair at the back of his head eliciting a deep groan from him she could feel as well as hear.

Paige felt the fleeting graze of his tongue between her lips, so she let the tip of hers sweep along the seam of his mouth in return. When he gasped, she took full advantage and stroked inside.

Walter made a low, feral noise in his throat and his hips surged against her as his tongue plunged inside, chasing hers.

"What is the meaning of this?!" An outraged voice rudely pulled them apart.

For a few stunned moments, neither was able to answer. Then they both began talking at once. "I-I, uh, w-we… I'm on break…?" "You see, sir. It was a warm night…" "I thought we could have a quick tryst…" "…we came outside for a breath of air. It's so hot inside…" "…and wanted some privacy…""…the starlight was impossible to resist…" "…it's perfectly natural to take advantage of an opportunity to kiss a beautiful woman…"

"Enough!" Mr. Le Beau said gruffly, "Back to work! Both of you!"

Paige and Walter didn't need to be told twice. They retreated from their irritable temporary employer and hastened inside, this time she was towing the genius by his hand.

Their escape through the darkened room was soon blocked by the unidentified sailor who hadn't yet made his way out onto the balcony with the Le Beaus.

When she was trying to navigate around the man, tugging Walter along in her wake, she happened to glance up and recognized the all-too-familiar face. In shock, her numb fingers dropped Walter's hand.

She felt suddenly woozy as if every drop of blood left her head plunging downward toward her madly thumping heart. She stood stock still, just staring, eyes round and mouth gaping.

"Paige? Is that you? What are you doing here?"

She swallowed hard against the choking storm of swirling emotions and was finally able to respond with a barely audible, "Drew…?"

OXOXOXOXOXO

Drew?

The same Drew who was legally married to someone else when he wooed a young, impressionable girl? The same Drew who abandoned Paige when she desperately needed his support? The same Drew who'd never laid eyes on the genius son he'd fathered? _That_ Drew?

It was rare for Walter O'Brien to be overcome with anything as unproductive as rage, but as he whirled to fully face the jerk who'd left Paige and Ralph to struggle every day for basic necessities, he had a savage and almost overwhelming urge to punch the guy in the nose.

The expression on Paige's face stopped him. He wasn't much good at interpreting the feelings of others, but she looked physically ill, so he placed a steadying hand on the small of her back and felt her swaying on her feet.

Then the fool started to speak, acting nonchalant, like he was addressing some distant former acquaintance rather than the mother of his child, "Wait. Was that you singing out there a while ago? I thought I recognized your voice, but I couldn't quite place it. You still have incredible talent. Are you touring with the USO now or something?"

"Or something," Walter said, with biting contempt, "She's been a little busy raising her son on her own to do much touring."

A loaded silence fell and the mounting tension between the two men was all at once positively seething. They were like two tigers circling and baring teeth, ready to spring.

"I'm sorry," Drew answered glibly, feigning polite confusion, "I don't believe we've met. I'm…"

"I know who you are. Or more importantly I know exactly _what_ you are…" the genius grated.

Paige seemed to rally a little and she placed a hand weakly on his arm. "Please. Don't. I'm okay." She cut her eyes toward the open doors where the Le Beaus stood watching and listening curiously, "Now isn't the time for reminiscing. Walter, let's get back to work."

He tossed one more blistering look in the absentee father's direction before letting Paige lead him back into the ballroom.

By tacit agreement, they weaved through and dodged around the knots of guests and made their way to the rendezvous point. It was a few minutes before the others were supposed to join them so Walter and Paige stood alone in heavy, uneasy silence in the unused conference room off of the bustling hallway behind the kitchen. The racket of dishwashers and waiters arguing and talking, the chefs barking instructions and the clattering of dishes and utensils was made unnaturally loud by the charged quiet between them.

While he searched his mind for something to say, she beat him to it and uttered softly, "That wasn't necessary, you know."

"Hmm? What wasn't?"

"I don't need you fighting my battles for me. I can handle myself."

Walter stared at Paige in offended disbelief. "I know I'm not great with exchanges between humans, but it didn't look like you were handling anything. And I was only stating facts to your imbecilic ex who, by the way, appears to be involved in some sort of criminal enterprise."

"We don't _know_ that. We didn't hear enough to make that assumption," she snapped, folding her arms across her middle defensively and leveling him a no-nonsense glare.

As usual, he didn't catch the unspoken 'drop it' in her tone. "Forgive me for attempting to stand up for you and Ralph. And we overheard enough…"

"Stop it. Don't you see? I _need_ to give him the benefit of a doubt. Give him a chance to explain…"

"Why? You don't owe that man anything. In fact, the reverse is true. He owes you everything and he threw it away. I hope he's up to his neck in this thing, so we can toss him in the brig where he belongs! Ralph deserves better than him!" Walter returned with conviction, no longer trying to remain unobtrusive.

"That man is Ralph's father! You are not! I'm done arguing with you about this!" With those words, she spun on her heel and marched out.

A sharp jab of hurt lanced straight through Walter as he watched her walk away from the mission, the team… from him. He should have known better. Emotional entanglements were inadvisable for someone like him.

Toby and Happy strolled in seconds later and the shrink asked, "Was that your waitress I just saw fleeing like she's being dive bombed by a squadron of kamikaze pilots?"

"We don't need her," Walter snarled, " _I_ don't need her."

"That's highly unlikely," Toby muttered under his breath as Cabe entered the room.

"Status report," Sergeant Gallo demanded, ignoring the strained atmosphere.

A glowering Walter repeated what he'd overheard in clipped words, purposely omitting any mention of dancing and more importantly the heated kiss on the balcony. It was no one's business how he'd executed his part of the operation.

In contrast, Toby gave an overly exhaustive account of his and Happy's findings from their search of the building until Cabe barked at him to sum up the important information.

He related the story of how the two of them found nothing at all questionable until they'd broken into the wine cellar. He couldn't resist recounting the details about how they'd found the number and types of locks on the door of a simple wine cellar to be 'fishier than ten day old tuna casserole'.

That was the moment when Happy finally told him to 'shut it' and took over telling the relevant details of the story.

Walter was able to glean from her much more concise explanation, the cellar had a new set of shelves mounted to the wall that were disguising a secret entrance to a passage-way down to an ocean cave.

They'd found no weapons in the storage area or the passage, but what they did find were empty munitions crates on the steps and a small, anchored submarine floating in the lower tide waters inside the cave. There was no crew present topside they could detect, but they couldn't get close enough to tell if there was anyone manning the craft itself.

It was plain what needed to be done. Every inch of that submarine would need to be inspected. Sooner rather than later because the tide was already starting to come in and within a couple of hours, the cave would be submerged in seawater along with the vessel and its illegal cargo.

It was decided they would create a diversion to draw out anyone on the submersible. Then they would board it and look for the weapons stash as well as the coordinates for the delivery.

With a solid plan in place, the team wasted no time setting out. As they entered the corridor leading to the wine cellar, Cabe spoke up, "Hey, Walter. Hang back a sec, will ya." Then addressing Happy and Toby, he asked, "Why don't you guys get started on picking those locks? Walt and I will catch up."

"Normally you know I'd jump at the chance to spend a little one on one with Happy, but the two of you need to have your discussion in a hurry. I don't need to remind you we're on the clock here," the shrink replied and tapped his watch pointedly before following the mechanic.

"I'm fine, Cabe." Walter spoke before the other man had the chance. "Let's just go."

"Hang on, there. I need to make sure your brain is one hundred percent with us right now. I couldn't help but notice Paige is MIA. Is everything okay with you and her?"

Walter sighed, knowing the other man wouldn't let it go until he got answers. "There is no me and her, so yes, I'm fine. Turns out the unknown inside man is none other than Ralph's father. She chose him over the mission. Over m… uh, us."

"That doesn't sound right. Are you sure that's the way it went?" Cabe raised one skeptical brow.

"She said something about needing to give him the benefit of a doubt and letting him explain," Walter scoffed. "At any rate, she's no longer assisting us with this endeavor."

"Do you think she'll betray us to her ex?"

As mixed as his feelings were with Paige in that moment, he was sure she wouldn't tell, "No. She knows what's ultimately at stake. We can trust her."

Walter knew without doubt he'd spoken the truth about her, but he couldn't help feeling betrayed all the same.


	9. Chapter 9

WAIGING WAR CHAPTER 9

She felt like she was suffocating. She had to get out of there.

Paige knew she behaved badly, handled things poorly on both fronts, but everything was so horribly overwhelming.

Not knowing exactly how she ended up there, Paige huddled on one of the decorative wooden benches scattered around the hotel grounds. Shivering in spite of the warm night air, she wrapped her arms around herself hoping to keep from totally flying apart.

Maybe these types of feelings were considered normal when one's past collided violently with one's present making the future even more uncertain. When her head was still reeling from the soul-stirring experience of kissing Walter she'd smacked face first into the reason she'd come to this forsaken island. How was she supposed to deal with it all?

Likely Toby would have a theory about it. She didn't need theories. What she desperately needed was good, solid advice.

She was so preoccupied she hardly noticed when Drew sidled up and sat on the bench beside her.

"There you are. Where's your watch dog?" He said by way of greeting, earning him a narrow-eyed glare.

He raised both hands. "Take it easy. Only kidding. I felt bad about how our little reunion went in there, so I wanted to find you and explain. I couldn't say much in front of our audience."

"I honestly don't think I have the energy to make you feel better right now, Drew. I have enough going on at the moment. So please say what you came to say and kindly leave me alone. Again."

"Hey, I've been thinking about tracking you down a lot recently. Imagine my surprise when you showed up here at the hotel. It was like fate."

When Paige appeared singularly unmoved by how lucky she was to have had their chance encounter, he tried another tack and inquired with false meekness "So, we have a boy? How is our son?"

" _My_ son," Paige ground out, belatedly feeling all the built up resentment which had been buried under the shock when she first laid eyes on the man after five long, hard years. "Let's get that straight right now."

"Fair enough. Listen, I know I've messed up plenty. When we were together I wasn't completely honest…"

Paige burst into mocking laughter. Sobering quickly she sneered, "About which part? The part where you told me you were single? Or the part where you said you'd marry me? Or the part where you said you'd take care of me and the baby? Or the part where you told me you'd come back for us? I'm having a little trouble remembering which parts were even partially true."

"You have to understand. At the time you were a fantasy of sorts. An ideal. A dream I had for myself. I admit it. Okay? I have a lot to answer for, but I can't go back and change that now. What I can do is try to make up for it."

"Oh, this should be good. I can't wait to hear exactly how you plan to do that." Paige's words liberally peppered with sarcasm, the look on her face equal parts irritated and amused, she marveled at the gullible girl she had once been for being dazzled by this person.

Drew tried to take her hand, but she snatched it back and crossed her arms, waiting impatiently.

He sighed, shoulders slumping. "My navy career is over. When I get back, I'm out. I… messed up bad on an important mission. Naval intelligence has me… working for them to try to, uh, help correct the error and leave with at least an honorable discharge. Lucy, my wife, filed for divorce several months ago citing infidelity, but it really amounts to my failed career as a pilot…"

"Forgive me for not being more sympathetic, Drew. All this doesn't tell me how my circumstances are going to improve or how I'm going to better provide for the child you abandoned. That's my only concern right now."

Looking cautiously hopeful, he replied, "I'm getting to it. My father has a lobster fishing business in Maine. He always wanted me to take it over eventually. It was a huge disappointment when I joined the navy instead. I'll be going back there when I'm out of the service. I could marry you and you could come with me. It would be a new start for us. For all three of us. We could finally be a family."

When she opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of his offer, he interrupted, "Just think it over. Try to consider what it would mean for the boy. Please?"

"His name is Ralph," Paige bit out as she stood to her feet and stalked away from her faithless first love, his imperfections and selfishness all at once standing out in sharp detail against the backdrop of a face she once thought was so handsome.

In a flash of clarity, she decided she much preferred a guy who wouldn't mince words, who could occasionally wound her with honesty rather than telling her what he thought she wanted to hear. Someone she could trust. Someone who'd always kept his promises. Someone who was more of a father to her son in a few short months than Drew had ever been in Ralph's whole life.

A beautiful, worthy man fitting that very description was somewhere nearby and needed her help. It didn't matter she didn't see any way for them to have a future together. He was everything that was best for Ralph. For today. If today was all she had, at least she knew he would never play her false.

She was determined to go and find him.

OXOXOXOXOXO

This mission was currently what the army would unofficially label FUBAR.

Walter had never fully understood the term until now. But absolutely nothing had gone right, well, since Paige stormed out of the conference room earlier.

He and Cabe were bound together and seated back-to-back on the metal scaffolding serving as a makeshift dock around the perimeter of the cave. It was about to be totally submerged by the rising tide. Next to them, Toby and Happy were in the exact same position. Paige's traitorous boss Stu stood guard. He was holding them at gunpoint while his partner, the guy they tried to lure out of the submarine earlier, placed a charge in the cargo hold with the highly illegal and very dangerous merchandise. They meant to detonate it and destroy the evidence along with any eyewitnesses, namely Toby, Happy, Cabe and himself, as well as a good bit of the island.

Things could've definitely gone better.

Their captors were speaking in rapid Japanese, so even Happy was hard pressed to translate. She was able to ascertain the authorities had been alerted to the buyer's coordinates and were on their way to intercept. That was why the team's operation had been interrupted by Stu's untimely arrival before they could thoroughly search the sub. The criminals had a new set of orders.

With the element of surprise, Stu had first subdued Cabe, alerted his own partner, then the two of them handily overtook the group of geniuses and completely turned the tables on them.

Angry with himself for not anticipating the current circumstances, Walter's mind was scrambling around trying to work out a scenario where everyone got out alive. So far he had nothing. Discarding yet another hopeless possibility and scanning the space for a more feasible solution, he caught a flicker of movement over by the passage-way. He cut his eyes back toward the stairs and he saw it again.

No. Oh, no. It was Paige. He could swear his heart dropped to his abdomen and continued beating in an arrhythmic stutter. She pressed one finger to her lips in a shushing motion.

Trying not to give her away to Stu, Walter gestured with a slight tilt of his head trying to indicate she should leave and go get help.

She mimed coughing. He frowned, not understanding, until she urgently pointed at him and gave another silent cough.

Catching on, Walter gave a loud series of coughs and watched as a kitchen knife bumped and slid across the uneven surface of the scaffold halting a few inches shy of Happy's foot.

While Stu was moving in to cuff Walter on the side of the head and yelling at him to be quiet, the mechanic deftly covered the knife with her leg and pulled it toward herself acting like she was shifting and wiggling in discomfort from being restrained. Stu briefly turned the gun on Happy and ordered her to be still, then he narrowed suspicious eyes on the whole team. "None of you better get any bright ideas," he growled, all pretense of the kindly diner owner long gone.

Heart still hammering, but trying not to react to or focus on Paige's presence, Walter watched only peripherally for her next move. He immediately went into another coughing fit when he saw her sneaking up on tiptoe behind a ruthless, gun waving opportunist who wouldn't think twice about ending her life. She held a short oar against her shoulder like a baseball bat.

When she was within range, she intoned softly and almost sweetly, "Oh, Stu?"

When the man startled and whipped around, Paige said, "I quit," and the oar connected with a loud crack to the side of his head. The gun flew from his fat fingers and bounced off the cave wall as he fell with a heavy crash in a heap on the dock.

Happy shook free from her bonds and leapt on the stunned man. She began tying him with the ropes he'd used on them while she simultaneously searched him for other weapons.

Toby slipped the knife to Cabe then went for the gun, holding it in shaking hands as the other perpetrator popped up from the submarine to investigate the commotion like the groundhog looking for his shadow.

"Don't move. Seriously. I'm a lousy shot, but I have five whole tries and by then Cabe, a much better marksman, will be free," Toby instructed.

The guy ducked back inside the hatch and banged it shut.

"Hey! Get back out here!" the nervous shrink kept up his stream of babbling, "Wait. I guess it's okay. It's not like you're going anywhere."

That's when they heard the engines fire up and the propellers started churning the water.

"I stand corrected," Toby muttered as a now untied Cabe nudged him aside and took the gun.

The sergeant leapt onto the craft before it could submerge. He tore the hatch open and disappeared inside reemerging minutes later with the would-be escapee whose hands were resting atop his head in surrender.

As they climbed back onto the dock, they noticed the prisoner's eyes were huge and rolling with fear. He started pointing at the submersible then waving his arms in wide arcs making explosion noises as best as he could with his mouth.

"My Japanese is a little rusty, but I think our friend here is trying to tell us that submarine is about to explode," Toby quipped calmly.

Walter considered for a split second, then told the others, "Everyone get out. Take the prisoners, get into the passage and secure the door. It's made of solid rock. That corridor is probably one of the safest places to be if this all goes south. No time to lose. Go!"

Cabe and Toby didn't need to be told twice and hefted the still dazed Stu between them as Happy took the gun and urged the other man along in front of her telling him to hurry in Japanese.

Paige started to follow then turned back and looked at Walter as he hesitated on the dock. "Wait. What about you?"

"I'm going to check on something. See if there's any way I can stop things from detonating. Go. And secure the door. I'm right behind you."

Paige frowned and pinned him with a look. "You'd better be."

"Go, Paige. Get to safety. I'll be along in a minute."

Reluctantly, she walked into the corridor and shut the door. Peering through the porthole window, she saw Walter open the hatch. He caught her gaze and gave her a little half smile as he descended the ladder into the sub.

And she _knew_.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach.

Pounding frantically on the window, she cried, "Walter! NO!" The hatch clanged closed and locked.

Cabe pulled her away from the door as she watched the submarine dive and disappear under the black, swirling water.

Breathless seconds or minutes or hours later there came a muffled boom and a tidal wave of white water crashed against the door seeping inside at the cracks and streaking that little, round window like the scalding tears that were running unchecked down Paige's face.

 **AN: Poor Paige is gonna need some serious fluff after this chapter.**

 **Please review. And be gentle? BTW, the term FUBAR was coined during World War II. Ah, the things you learn when researching a fan fiction story.**


	10. Chapter 10

WAIGING WAR CHAPTER 10

 **AN: This is it, folks. The final installment. Thank you for going on this journey with me and a thousand thank you's for all the encouraging reviews. They really spurred me on to finish. I love how a lot of you recognize when I borrow dialogue directly from the show. I see I'm not the only one obsessed with Scorpion! ;-D**

Surviving from one breath to the next was all Paige could manage.

Nothing anyone said made sense. Everyone kept making garbled noises about 'the greater good' or spouting nonsense about how Walter 'died a hero in the service of others'. Others who didn't like him. Others who never tried to understand him. Others who would never know the true cost of losing someone of his caliber.

Not like Ralph. And not like her. They knew precisely what it meant to lose him.

Paige sat staring into space, mute and numb, on her lumpy, dust-colored couch tuning out the hushed activity around her. She didn't react when Cabe broke the news to Sylvester and crushed the teen down to a quaking, teary-eyed mess. She barely responded when one-by-one the others asked if she was going to be okay. She said nothing when they all eventually gave up and left. And she was still sitting motionless in the same spot as the sky began to turn from black to pearly gray at the horizon.

Soon Ralph would wake up. She would need to gather what was left of her strength to tell him. But how? She had always shielded him. Sheltered him from harm. But there was no way to deliver this kind of news gently. Her son would be devastated. And he would be abandoned all over again. Would it send him back inside himself when she was just getting to know the real Ralph?

Tearing fear and pain and loss threatened to claw their way up from the pit where she'd banished them, but Paige fiercely battered them back down again.

A sharp rap on the door split the oppressive quiet making her jump.

Willing whoever it was to leave, Paige stayed paralyzed in the same place she'd occupied for hours. She had absolutely no desire to talk to anyone.

Another more determined knock sounded, this time accompanied by a faint voice belonging to a ghost. "Paige? Are you home?"

She was wrenching the door open a split second later, half thinking she must be hallucinating, not believing the evidence of her own ears or eyes.

"Walter?" Her voice came out a pathetic, rusty rasp.

"Obviously," he said with a shrug.

What was left of Practical Paige disappeared all at once. Immediately her mood switched to furious at the smug look on his face and Paige went berserk, slapping him hard before whirling around and leaving him standing frozen in place on her front porch, one hand rubbing his stinging cheek.

His expression was no longer superior, but vastly confused and hesitant.

It took him only a moment to stir himself and follow cautiously after her. "Uh, Paige? I thought you'd be pleased to hear that I was unharmed." He said timidly.

Walter halted a few feet behind where she'd stopped, her back to him, debating whether or not to leave. He noticed she was trembling all over.

"Should I go?" He whispered, unsure.

In the next instant she'd turned and flung her arms around him and was sobbing disconsolately into his neck.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, he began awkwardly patting her back. As she melted against him, he started to relax, instinctively making soothing, shushing noises and softly stating obvious facts like 'It's okay' and 'I'm right here'. He didn't know if those were the right words to say, but they seemed to help a little because she was calming slightly.

He would never understand humans. Holding this one, for want of a better word, felt perfect though. She fitted against him just right, like the missing piece to the puzzle that was Walter O'Brien, making the picture complete.

As Paige's crying jag quieted to occasional hiccups, Walter acknowledged he could probably accurately calculate how long they stood swaying and clinging together in her tiny living room. But his mind was always more at rest in her company and he was content to be with her for as long as she required, not feeling the need to quantify the passing of time for once.

He didn't speak. Totally out of his depth, he chose to take cues from her and hope he picked up on them correctly.

Pulling away gradually, she reached up and cradled his face in her palms. Her eyes were still wet and red-rimmed, her voice wobbly when she finally said, "I-I shouldn't have hit you."

"I understand. You were overwrought. You didn't mean it…"

"Oh, I meant it." Paige let her hands drop to her sides. Eyes filling again, she continued, "How dare you put yourself at risk? Don't you realize how important you are? To your friends? To Ralph? To-to me?"

Stunned, his mind whirring trying to process her words, he had no answer for her. He'd never even considered his importance to others, simply weighing his own possible loss against the resulting gain. But the idea of being important to Paige? Well, that notion made his heart stutter and thump and run inefficiently, like a faulty motor.

While he was still struggling with the effect of her words, she stepped close again and touched her lips softly to his. It was the merest brush, but that was all the invitation he needed.

Sliding his arms around her, he pulled her flush against his body and kissed her fully, feeling his blood heat and hearing it pulse rhythmically in his ears. He teased her mouth open with his tongue and stroked inside, swallowing her quiet mewl of acquiescence as her tongue joined his in carnal play.

One of her hands wandered over his back before finally fisting in his shirt below his shoulder, while the other tangled in the back of his hair, nails grazing his scalp making his toes curl inside his shoes.

Walter had never wanted anyone like he wanted Paige. And he didn't know what to do with that simple fact.

She curled one leg around his and pressed her warmth against him, pulling a low groan from somewhere deep inside him. He let one hand slide along her thigh lifting it a bit more toward his waist and she whimpered and writhed against him.

"Mommy?" A sleepy, tousle-headed Ralph tottered into the room, rubbing his eyes.

The embracing couple sprang apart guiltily, trying to regain control and modulate their breathing.

"Walter!" The boy's face lit up and he ran to his hero and hugged him tightly around the knees. "Did you come for breakfast?"

The older genius looked at Paige, eyebrows raised in an unspoken question.

Smiling wryly at her son, the young mother nodded. "Yes, honey. Walter is here for breakfast."

Forgetting everything else, the boy asked, "Can we have French toast? Mommy makes the _best_ French toast," he gushed to Walter, grabbing both of their hands and leading them in the direction of the kitchen.

During most of the preparation, Paige was going through the motions like a wind-up toy, content to let Ralph keep Walter engaged in conversation. Now that the night's grief and anxiety were gone, she was exhausted and more than a little shaky. Also feeling a bit shy after what transpired between them, she was having a hard time looking directly at the man in her kitchen after she'd nearly climbed him like a tree or tackled him to her sofa and had her wicked way with him. The jumble of emotions was certainly messing with her judgment, but she could swear Walter was the sexiest man she'd ever encountered in her very limited experience.

When Ralph was occupied drizzling just the right amount of syrup on his toast, Paige recovered her senses and mustered enough bravado to look directly at the grown-up genius across the table.

As she cut her son's meal into bite-sized pieces, she asked, "How did you do it?"

"Mmm?" Walter asked, his mouth too full to properly answer.

"How did you get out of the submarine?"

He swallowed and replied matter-of-factly as if discussing the weather, "Oh, that. I didn't. Our Japanese friend who set the charge? He initially tried to escape using the sub, but he failed because he forgot to secure the hatch. It won't dive if the hatch isn't locked and Cabe opened it before he could remedy that issue. It stood to reason that if the guy who set the charge was going to flee in the submarine, there had to be a way to travel in it without exploding."

Walter took another bite, while Paige waited impatiently for him to chew and resume the explanation. He grinned at Ralph, who was now sporting a milk mustache, "Your mom's French toast really is excellent."

" _Walter_." She prompted.

"Okay. Um, I'd already calculated the probability of stopping the explosion was slim to nil. But if an atom bomb goes off in deeper, colder ocean water, it substantially minimizes the impact. I simply navigated out to a greater depth and a greater distance from the island so if the submarine exploded, it wouldn't endanger anyone but me. Submariners aren't able to open the hatch once underwater, but they are able to jettison cargo in case of emergency. The bomb and weapons cache were in the cargo hold. I waited until I was far enough away and I jettisoned the whole load. Once it dropped to the ocean floor and detonated, the explosion sent me shooting several miles out to sea. The radio was damaged by the blast but still usable for short-range transmissions. I was out of range for quite some time, but I contacted the base as soon as I was able. When I got back, Cabe and I talked for a while. Then I came here. That's it."

"Why didn't you tell me what you were planning when you sent me into the passage?" Paige asked sharply. "I would have understood. I wouldn't have assumed…you-you…" Her voice trailed off and she glared at him.

Wincing at her tone, he replied, "I, uh, figured I didn't have enough time to explain and I wasn't sure if my plan would work. I didn't stop to consider anyone's feelings. Sorry. Are you going to hit me again?"

Grudgingly she answered, "No. You're lucky I'm too tired."

They grinned at each other. Then Walter said, "I actually came here to ask you something."

"What's that?"

"What do you plan to do now?"

Paige sighed, "I haven't had time to think about it yet. Since I assaulted Stu and he was arrested, I guess I'm out of work. With all the GIs leaving in droves, the diner wouldn't have stayed open much longer anyway." She glanced over at her son who was happily tracing patterns in the leftover syrup on his plate before she continued, "I, uh, had an offer from… my ex to move to Maine. It doesn't appeal, but it may be my only option if I want us to return to the mainland. Oh, no! Unless he was arrested too!"

Walter's eyebrow shot up and his lip curled in disgust. "Nah. Turns out his only crime was stupidity. He's the one who lost track of the H bomb to start with. He was posing as an inside man and he's the one who supplied the buyer's coordinates to the navy officials. But you'd _really_ consider moving to Maine with a man who has already left you once? That's idiotic."

"And that's rude and insulting. What choice do I have?"

"What if I offer you a job instead? Cabe is transferring to army intelligence and already has approval for us to form a team of government sponsored problem solvers based in LA. Code name 'Scorpion'." He looked at her hopefully.

Astonished, she argued, "I'm not a genius."

"But you are raising one. That takes someone smart, brave. We will have to interact with people. As you're aware, it's not our strong suit. We can continue to translate your son for you and you can translate the world for us," He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table to her, smiling in eager anticipation.

Paige unfolded the paper and looking at the figure written there, she gasped while Walter rattled on. "All members of Scorpion are paid the same. It was one of my first stipulations. I will assume guardianship of Sylvester until he reaches his majority, of course. His father has already agreed because of Cabe's endorsement regarding our latest mission. He believes working with Cabe will 'toughen him up'..."

Tearing up once again, she stuttered, "B-but it's so-so…generous."

Eyes softening as he glanced at Ralph, he said, "You wanted a way to provide the best for your son. There's your chance."

Paige's chair scraped back as she leapt up and hugged Walter around the neck, placing a smacking kiss on the cheek she'd slapped just a short time before.

"I guess that's a yes?" He asked, optimistically. Then, looking uncertain, he added, "I feel I should be completely honest with you. I want you to know you can always trust me. See, I was also thinking... we, uh, that is you and I, could… I've always thought emotional decisions would compromise positive outcomes. But, um… in-in this case, well," He scratched the side of his face nervously. "I-I feel almost compelled to explore this… these perplexing feelings between us. Do you… Is-is that something you'd like to do as well?"

Beaming, she nodded enthusiastically. "When do we leave?"


End file.
